


A Place Between Sleep and Waking

by r_grayjoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/pseuds/r_grayjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than a year after Voldemort's defeat, Harry is still having nightmares about Snape's death.  When his dreams gradually begin to change, so do his perceptions.  Ultimately, Harry discovers that when one lives in both the past and the future, it's difficult to find one's present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place Between Sleep and Waking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for snapelyholidays 2009.

  
**A Place Between Sleep and Waking**   


"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." -- _Albus Dumbledore_

* * * * *

 _Blood. There was blood everywhere. A tremendous amount of blood poured from Snape's wounded neck, soaking his robes and spreading across the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Harry wanted to staunch the flow, but his arms wouldn't move. Seeing Harry kneeling above him, Snape reached up and grasped him by the front of his robes, pulling him close with greater strength than a dying man should possess. "Look at me," Snape whispered with his last breath, and Harry gazed helplessly into Snape's eyes from inches away as the light went out of them…_

The early morning sun shone through the window and illuminated the room in a warm, golden glow. Harry buried his face in his pillow and groaned. He hated waking up before the Alarm Charm.

Reaching towards the bedside table, he fumbled blindly for his wand. Once he had it in hand, he gave it a vague wave. The Alarm was charmed to go off in twenty minutes. No point in going back to sleep, then. Reluctantly, Harry threw the covers aside and dragged himself out of bed.

He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled down the stairs and into the basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Shuffling up to the table, he pulled out the nearest chair and flopped into it with a halfhearted grunt.

"Good morning to you too," Hermione said as she slid a cup of tea over to him.

Despite his aversion to mornings, Harry flashed Hermione a sheepish grin. He didn't want her to think he wasn't happy to see her.

Truth be told, Hermione and Ron were the primary reason Harry had kept the house on Grimmauld Place. Technically, they lived in a small cottage just outside London, but they spent at least as much time at Harry's home as they did their own. Harry liked the arrangement just fine, so he stayed in the old house since it was big enough to allow his best friends to come and go at will, and familiar enough for them to feel comfortable doing it. Besides, the place wasn't so bad now that Kreacher was actually caring for it. The doxies and boggarts were long gone, the tattered furnishings had been replaced, and Mrs. Black's portrait had been removed to Harry-didn't-really-care-where.

"You're up early and you look wrecked," Hermione said, eyeing Harry critically. "Are you still having those dreams about Snape?"

It was amazing how Hermione could sound both sympathetic and scolding at the same time, Harry thought. He focused on spooning sugar into his tea and shrugged.

"Harry, it's been over a year," Hermione said. "Maybe you should _see_ someone."

"I don't need a Muggle head shrinker. They're just dreams."

"They sound more like nightmares, from what you've said."

Harry shrugged again.

Hermione sighed. "It wasn't your fault, you know," she said softly.

"I can't help thinking there was something I could have done. I mean, I stood right there and just watched the whole thing."

"Right, and attracting Voldemort's attention by running in between Snape and a giant, angry snake would have been a positively brilliant move." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Think about what you're saying!"

"I know, I know, you're right. Sometimes I wonder if I would have tried harder if I'd known which side he was really on, though."

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Hermione said. "It all happened too fast. Besides, have you ever considered that Snape might be better off this way?"

Harry looked up from his tea, surprised at Hermione's question.

"Well, think about it. What sort of life would he have now if he'd lived?" Hermione asked. "He'd either be in Azkaban for using the Killing Curse, or he'd be on the run someplace. Maybe wherever he is now, he's managed to find some peace."

"Snape? Peace?" Harry chuckled at the notion. "Nah, he's probably swooping around the afterlife like a great, bony bat, hexing anyone who dares cross his path."

Hermione giggled. "Harry, that's terrible! But you have a point. 'Snape' and 'peace' seem sort of mutually exclusive, don't they?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sort of like 'Draco Malfoy' and 'integrity' or 'Ron' and 'recreational reading.'"

"You're a fine one to talk about recreational reading! When was the last time you read something that wasn't printed on glossy paper with people in Quidditch uniforms swooping all over the cover?"

Harry grinned. After eight years of friendship, he knew all the best ways to wind Hermione up. "Exactly my point. Takes a lazy git to know a lazy git."

"Ugh, now you really sound like Ron. Speaking of lazy -- you should go get in the shower. I'll make some eggs. Get moving or you'll miss Stealth and Tracking."

"Yes, Mum," Harry teased as he rose from the table and headed back upstairs, the last remnants of his dream fading in the daylight.

* * * * *

There were days when Harry thought that only a complete and utter masochist would subject himself to Auror training. Today was one of those days. When he arrived home, well after dark, Harry limped up the stairs intent upon a hot shower to help ease his sore muscles. He made it as far as the first floor landing before he gave up. The overstuffed armchairs in the drawing room looked incredibly inviting, and Harry found himself collapsing into one in short order.

Kreacher popped into the room almost immediately to ask what he could get for Master. Harry requested only a hot Butterbeer, but Kreacher, bless him, returned a few minutes later with the drink and a bowl of stew as well. After gratefully devouring the stew, Harry leaned back in his chair with the Butterbeer, enjoying the feel of the warm mug in his hands as the familiar scent of butterscotch and spice wafted up to soothe him.

Butterbeer was something of a guilty pleasure for Harry; a special treat after a long day. The taste always reminded him of good times he'd shared with friends when he was able to forget about Dark Lords and Death Eaters for a little while. It was one of the few innocent enjoyments from the last several years that hadn't been sullied by his experiences with Voldemort. The other Aurors-in-training could keep their pitchers of ale and tumblers of Firewhisky as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry made it halfway through his mug before his eyelids grew heavy and he began to nod off in the armchair. The shower could wait until morning, he decided. It was definitely time to get up the stairs, out of his robes, and into bed. He'd get up in just a minute, really he would…

 _Snape lay in a pool of red on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. At first Harry thought he was already dead, but then Snape slowly lifted his head and stared at him, unspeaking. Harry tried to run to him, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. They felt heavy and it seemed as though he were moving through treacle. Determined to get to Snape, he fought against the force that held him back._

 _Every step was a struggle, but gradually Harry advanced. After what felt like hours, he reached Snape's side and dropped to the floor. As soon as he did, Snape's hand shot up and grabbed Harry's robes. "Look at me," Snape said._

 _"No. No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I have to help you!"_

 _"Look at me!" Snape's voice was stronger now, commanding Harry to do as instructed._

 _As Harry looked into Snape's eyes, Snape's face began to change. His features faded into a smooth, expressionless mask, and then, suddenly, Harry was looking at a much younger Snape, the student he remembered seeing in the Pensieve. Not knowing what to do, Harry stared at Snape dumbly._

 _"Pay attention, Potter!" Snape barked._

"Harry? Harry?"

Groggily, Harry blinked his eyes open and found a blurry Hermione looking down at him.

"Did you sleep in here all night?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced around and saw that he was still in the armchair in the drawing room. The bowl and mug had been removed, a blanket had been laid over him, and his glasses had been placed on the table beside him. "Heh. I guess I must have," he said.

Hermione gave him That Look, but graciously withheld any scolding. Instead she just said, "Well, at least it's the weekend and you can catch up on your sleep."

Shoving his glasses back on his face, Harry said, "I'm perfectly fine." To demonstrate the point, he stood up, stretched, and tried to pretend that it didn't hurt to turn his neck. "It was just a long day yesterday, that's all."

"I suppose it must have been. Ron looked like an Inferius when he shambled through the door last night. I had to poke him to keep him from falling face-first into his dinner. Twice."

The image of Ron snoring into his mashed potatoes, red hair sticking up above the dinner rolls, sent Harry into a fit of laughter. Quickly catching on to what Harry had found so amusing, Hermione laughed with him.

When they sobered, Hermione said, "Honestly, I don't know how you two do it."

"It's not so bad," Harry said. Truthfully, he enjoyed Auror training, as exhausting as it could be at times. It was the first thing in his life he had truly chosen for himself, and he was good at it. His instructors were just as hard on him as they were on everyone else despite his fame, and it felt good to receive equal treatment and still excel at something.

What Harry worried about was whether he would enjoy being an Auror once his training was completed. After all he had gone through in fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing more of the same. He didn't know what else he would want to do that wouldn't make him even more of a public spectacle than he already was, though.

"Well, anyway, I just stopped by to pick up some basil. I'm out of it at our place," Hermione said. "You're coming over tonight, right?"

"Of course!"

"Great, then we'll see you later." Hermione smiled and turned to leave.

"Hermione," Harry called after her on impulse. For an instant, he'd wanted to tell her about the peculiar change in his dream. But it hadn't really been all that different, had it? Most likely his next dream would return to the usual theme. There was no point it bringing it up, he decided.

Hermione stopped. "Yeah, Harry?"

"You can warn Ron that he'd better not eat all the chocolate biscuits before I get there this time."

* * * * *

The next time Harry dreamed of Snape, the Shrieking Shack was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the dream wove in and out of the scenes Harry had witnessed of Snape's youth. First there was Snape talking with Lily amongst a copse of trees, then Snape aboard the Hogwarts Express for the first time, then Snape with the Sorting Hat on his head, then Snape walking with Lily across the Hogwarts grounds. The scenes shifted fluidly from one to the next, never settling on any for long.

The disjointed fragments replayed over and over until at last Harry saw Snape standing in the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room looking angry and forlorn as Lily climbed back through the portrait hole. Snape turned and then stared at Harry as though Harry were standing in the hallway with him. Snape's face seemed to draw closer until his hard, dark eyes were all Harry could see. From somewhere far away, or possibly from inside Harry's head, Snape's voice snapped, "Pay attention, Potter!"

Harry awoke instantly with Snape's words echoing in his ears. Half certain someone was in the room with him, he snatched up his wand and cast _Lumos_. No one was there and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Feeling foolish, Harry put out the light.

As he lay in the darkened room, Harry considered this new dream. Although the barrage of images had been confusing and disorienting, Harry decided that it had been immensely preferable to reliving Snape's gory death yet again. He didn't have the chance to grow accustomed to it, however, because the following night his dreams changed again.

The next dream began where the last one had ended, and once more Harry found himself outside the Gryffindor common room. He watched as Lily refused to accept Snape's apology and disappeared through the portrait hole. Expecting the scene to shift, he was surprised when Snape spun on his heel and stomped down the corridor. This hadn't been part of the Pensieve memory. Harry wasn't certain what he should do, but since it didn't appear that the dream was going to shift, he quickly collected himself and hurried after Snape.

School robes flapping and long hair swinging, Snape rushed through the castle, gaining speed as he went. He was nearly running by the time he hit the dungeons. Harry assumed he was heading for the Slytherin common room, but then Snape slowed and ducked down a narrow side corridor. As Harry watched, Snape continued along the passage for some distance before coming to a stop, breathing hard.

Snape's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he stood, spine rigid and jaw set. Then, abruptly, he cursed and kicked a chunk of stone on the floor, sending it sailing down the dim corridor and out of sight. Harry heard it land with a clatter. Snape struck again, this time kicking the wall. A tear spilled down his cheek and he swiped it away angrily.

Snape kicked the wall once more for good measure, then the fight seemed to go out of him. He turned, dropped ungracefully to the floor, and sat with his back against the wall. Harry sat across from him and watched for some time, but Snape did nothing more and the dream faded.

From that point forward, Harry's dreams featured a young Snape in scenes that hadn't been part of the Pensieve memories. Oddly, most of them were mundane scenarios -- Snape reading a book, Snape taking his O.W.L.s, even Snape sleeping once -- with an occasional minor clash with the Marauders thrown in for variety. Harry wondered why his subconscious mind was suddenly fixated on creating these random moments in Snape's life, but he didn't question it overmuch since the new pattern was a vast improvement over his previous nightmares.

Harry quickly learned that the dreams were much like viewing memories in a Pensieve. His actions seemed to have no effect on the scenes that played out before him. After some experimentation, he discovered that he didn't have to remain near Snape, but was free to wander the whole of Hogwarts if he wished. However, he found that he preferred staying with Snape, even if he was doing nothing of real interest. At times Harry simply sat and studied the somber young man, searching for all the ways in which he was different from, yet so similar to, the Snape Harry had known in life. The Snape Harry had watched die.

* * * * *

"'Murninf, Hurry," Ron said in greeting through the slice of toast wedged in his mouth.

Still in his pajamas, Harry stood in the entryway of the drawing room and watched as Ron overturned pillows and peered behind sofas. "'Morning, Ron. What are you doing?"

Ron swallowed his bite of toast. "Oh, I'm just looking for my blue jumper. I think I left it here the last time I was over. Hermione likes that one, so I was going to wear it tonight."

Harry scratched his stomach. "Tonight?"

"Oh!" Ron stood up straight and smacked himself in the forehead, fortunately not with the hand that was holding the toast. "I was supposed to tell you! There's a get-together at the Three Broomsticks tonight." He paused a moment, then added, "I should warn you, though… Ginny might be coming."

Smiling slightly, Harry said, "And Neville too, I reckon?"

"Er, I reckon." Ron shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Ron, I told you, I think Ginny and Neville are great together. Really."

Harry and Ginny had given it a go after Voldemort's defeat. Once the dust settled, though, they discovered that they had very little besides months of anticipation upon which to base a relationship. In many ways, they were vastly different people with remarkably different experiences, and their silences had gradually become more awkward than comfortable.

Neville and Ginny, on the other hand, had grown close while leading the resistance within Hogwarts during the final year of the war. As Ginny's relationship with Harry faltered, her friendship with Neville grew and a romance blossomed. Harry was pretty certain that Neville had liked Ginny for years. Even now Neville often looked at her as though she were the most amazing thing he'd ever seen and he couldn't believe his luck. Unfortunately, the one time Harry had mentioned it, Neville had blushed to the roots of his hair and nearly choked on his own tongue.

Neville was far from the only one who walked on proverbial eggshells around Harry where this particular matter was concerned. Nothing Harry said could seem to convince his friends that he was perfectly fine with the way things had turned out. There had been no deception or artifice on Ginny's part. What had happened was simply natural, and anyone with eyes could see how much sense it made.

"Right. Well." Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the carpet, and then spotted his jumper poking out from under the chair beside him. "There it is!" he said, sounding relieved for reasons Harry knew had little to do with his attachment to an article of clothing.

Ron scooped up the jumper, looked at it, and sighed. "I guess I'd better get this home and clean it if I'm going to wear it tonight. Unless…" Ron gave Harry a hopeful look, "you'd ask Kreacher to do it? And not let Hermione know?"

Laughing, Harry said, "Sure, it's just one jumper. You can pop in and grab it later. And I certainly won't tell Hermione, since I don't want to hear a lecture about house elf welfare any more than you do!"

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, handing over the wrinkled blue fabric gratefully.

"No problem," Harry said. "See you tonight."

* * * * *

It was a gorgeous spring day. A light breeze stirred the grass and the sun glinted off the surface of the water. Snape sat cross-legged on the far side of the lake, gazing down at the book in his lap. Hidden behind a patch of tall bulrushes, he was unlikely to suffer any unwanted disturbances. Harry lay on his back a few feet from Snape and stared up at the clouds. It was peaceful here, and a relief after his evening at the Three Broomsticks.

The gathering had gone well, all in all. Ginny and Neville had come as expected, and even Luna and Dean had shown up. It was the first time so many of them had been together at once in several months. The evening was, in part, a celebration of Ginny and Luna having just completed their N.E.W.T.s, and the air had been relaxed and festive. As Harry had anticipated, though, his split with Ginny had been the erumpent in the room that everyone tried just a little too hard to avoid mentioning. Even Luna had been strangely circumspect about the matter. Harry wondered if Ginny was as bothered by it as he was, but he hadn't had an opportunity to ask her.

Harry looked over at Snape and sighed. "I wish you could hear me. It would be nice to talk to someone who _wouldn't_ try to spare my feelings for a change."

Snape looked up from his book and glanced around. Harry's heart nearly stopped in his chest. Had Snape heard him? Harry sat up, leaned forward, and willed Snape to say something.

After a pause, Snape returned his attention to his book. Perhaps he hadn't heard Harry after all. Still, Harry had never been one to give up so easily. "Hello?" he tried again. "Can you hear me?"

Again Snape's head snapped up. His eyes narrowed, his hand went to his wand, and he looked around suspiciously.

"You _can_ hear me!" Harry said. "Come on, Snape, say something!"

Instead of speaking, Snape swiftly turned and threw a Stunner into the bulrushes lining the lake. Several startled geese burst forth from their hiding place, wings flapping and feathers flying. Snape watched them leave, then quietly gathered his books and returned to the castle. Harry was disappointed, but not entirely discouraged. It was still possible that Snape had heard him in some way, and Harry was determined to try again.

The next time he dreamed, Harry found Snape in the Hogwarts library. It was in the final days of term, exams were over, and the library was nearly empty. Only a small group of tenacious Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, and Snape were there.

Since Harry couldn't pull out a chair to sit with Snape, he settled for perching on the edge of the table. "Snape?" he began tentatively.

Not looking up from his work, Snape lifted one hand and waved it near his ear absently, as though he were brushing away a fly.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked a little louder. "Snape?"

Snapping his book shut, Snape gathered his notes and stalked out of the library, a scowl fixed on his features. Harry followed. "Come on, say something!" he demanded, louder still. It only seemed to encourage Snape to walk faster.

Certain now that Snape could hear him, Harry kept pace with him and continued speaking. "Damn it, Snape, talk to me! It's getting boring just watching you read all the time. Answer me!"

At last Snape pulled up short, drew his wand, and said, "Who's doing that? Potter? Black? This is pathetic, even for one of _your_ tricks. Piss off."

"No, it's not… I'm not them! Can you hear what I'm saying?"

Harry held his breath as Snape remained silent for several heartbeats. "Yes," he finally replied. "I can hear you."

Letting out a triumphant bark of laughter, Harry said, "I knew it! This is brilliant!"

"Brilliant?" Snape snorted. "You always have had an over inflated sense of self-worth, Potter."

The remark was reminiscent of so many others Harry had endured as Professor Snape's student that he had to fight down his irritation. "Look, I'm not them and this isn't a prank."

"Of course not," Snape said in a tone that indicated he didn't believe Harry in the least. "Then who are you and what is this?"

"I, uh. I'm Harry." He didn't know how to answer the rest of the question, but 'I'm from the future where you're dead' was definitely out.

"I don't know a Harry. _Finite Incantatem. Revelio! Aparecium!_ " Snape tried.

"That's not going to work. And you might as well quit waving your wand about. I'm pretty sure you can't hurt me."

Snape lowered his wand slightly, but his brows knitted together and he glanced around the hallway. Harry could practically see the gears turning in Snape's head as he attempted to puzzle out what was going on. "Pretty sure? So you're saying you're not actually here, but somehow watching me from elsewhere."

"I'm…" Harry considered Snape's words. Would it be more accurate to say that he was in the hallway with Snape, or that he was in bed at home? "Actually, I think I'm sort of both."

Raising his wand again, Snape asked, "How? What sort of spell are you using?"

Not able to think up a better explanation on the spot, Harry decided to try the truth. Part of it, at any rate. "It's not a spell. I know this is going to sound crazy, but. Well. I think I'm asleep. I'm dreaming."

"What, and I'm supposed to be a figment of your imagination?" Snape made a rude noise.

"No! I mean, when I dream, I somehow just pop up where you are."

"For how long? How long have you been spying on me?"

It wasn't precisely spying, but Harry wasn't going to argue the point at the moment. "I dunno. A couple of weeks."

"You're right," Snape said. "It does sound mad. And I don't believe a word of it. Go annoy someone more gullible. And Potter -- if I find out it was you, I'll hex your todger to your face and make you piss from your nose." At that, Snape shoved his wand into his pocket and stomped off down the hallway.

Harry remained there for some time and considered what had just taken place. He'd told Snape that he wasn't a figment of Harry's imagination. But wasn't he? If he was, then he was one damned stubborn figment, that much was certain. And if this was merely a dream, Harry wondered why he cared so much whether Snape believed him.

* * * * *

Three days passed before Harry dreamed of Snape again. This time when the dream began, Harry was momentarily confused. He wasn't inside Hogwarts at all, but rather a small, dingy bedroom that he didn't recognize. Snape was there, though, lying on a rumpled, unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling and looking bored. Harry quickly surmised that summer hols must have begun and this must be Snape's family's home.

Being there felt like an invasion of Snape's privacy, and Harry considered not announcing his presence at all. Then he decided that, if the dreams were unfolding chronologically as they appeared to be, he didn't want to spend the next two months of summer hols silently following Snape around. He screwed up his courage, took a deep breath, and said, "Hello? Snape?"

Before Harry could blink, Snape was on his feet with wand in hand. "Who's there?"

"Er. It's Harry again."

"What the hell are you doing here? How dare you!" Snape fumed.

"Sorry," Harry said, cringing. "I don't exactly get to pick where I pop up."

"Oh, that's right, because you're _dreaming_. So help me, Potter--"

"Damn it, I'm not James Potter!" Harry cut in. "Or any of his friends." He exhaled slowly and considered how he could make Snape believe him. "Okay. To your knowledge, does either James or Sirius know where you live?"

"No," Snape said. "But… someone… could have told them."

Harry assumed 'someone' in this case probably meant 'Lily.' But although Lily had rejected Snape's apology a few weeks earlier, she still couldn't stand James, as Snape was surely aware. "Right," Harry went on, dismissing Snape's objection, "but even if they did know how and where to find you, they'd have to use magic to do it. Which would get them in serious trouble, since they're not allowed to perform magic outside Hogwarts yet."

"Bloody Gryffindors do whatever they want and never get in trouble for it," Snape grumbled. The protest was only half-hearted, though, and Snape seemed to accept Harry's reasoning for the time being. He lowered his wand and sat on the edge of the bed. Slumped slightly forward, dressed in ill-fitting Muggle clothing, his wand hanging limply from his hand, he suddenly looked oddly defeated.

"Fine," Snape said. "You're not them. So who are you, then?"

"I told you; my name's Harry."

"And I told you I don't know a Harry."

"No, I suppose we've never really met before this." Which was technically true, Harry reasoned. They'd actually met many years afterwards.

"Then how did you know my name?" Snape challenged.

"I saw it on your papers in the library." Harry was rather proud of himself for coming up with that answer so quickly.

"Right," Snape said, frowning doubtfully. "How is it you keep turning up during the day if you're dreaming?"

Harry shrugged, then remembered Snape couldn't see it. "I dunno. It's night time for me."

"How is that possible? Are you on the other side of the world or something?"

"No…" Snape's questioning was fast entering dangerous territory and Harry needed to change the course of the conversation quickly. "Look, I don't know what's going on here any more than you do. I didn't plan this, you know? Maybe it's not even me. Maybe it's something _you're_ doing."

Snape glared, but it was aimed at a spot about a meter to Harry's left. Which was probably a good thing because, had that particular glare been on target, it might have incinerated Harry where he stood. "Oh yes, you've sussed it out. I do so enjoy having disembodied voices following me about. If I'm very lucky you might manifest in the loo next."

"Dear Merlin, I hope not!" Harry said, afraid that very thing might happen now that Snape had mentioned it. "Ugh. All right. Neither one of us knows why this is happening, and we seem to be stuck with each other for the time being. We might as well make the best of it."

"How, precisely, do you suggest we do that?"

"Well. If no one can see me, I might be useful."

"That has potential…" Snape seemed to consider the possibilities.

"Or we could just, you know, talk and kill time. You did look pretty bored when I got here."

"What do you want to talk about?" Snape didn't precisely sound thrilled with the idea.

Under pressure to produce a topic for discussion, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Is this where you grew up?" He knew that it had been the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth.

Snape glared harder than before as his face turned scarlet. "No, of course not. I'm only staying in this wretched place until they've finished the renovations on my chateau in France."

"God, are you always so tetchy? I didn't mean anything by it. It's not like my childhood was charmed either. Trust me, this room is much nicer than where I slept until I was old enough to leave for school."

"Oh..?" Snape pressed, apparently curious.

"My 'room' was a cupboard under the stairs. They locked me in at night. Me and the spiders." Harry didn't know what had made him confess this to Snape. He'd never even told Ron or Hermione the details of his life with the Dursleys.

"They never," Snape said.

"They did."

"Oh." Snape didn't say any more than that, but something about his demeanor changed. There was a nearly imperceptible shift in his posture or expression that made Harry think he had relaxed just the slightest bit.

The silence stretched on a little too long and Harry struggled to think of a way to fill it. He was saved from having to say something else to which Snape would no doubt take offence by a scraping sound followed by a thump from somewhere else in the house. "What was that?"

"My mum's home." Snape looked from Harry's general direction to the bedroom door and back again. "I need to go help her put away the shopping."

Snape suddenly appeared anxious, and Harry wasn't sure why. Perhaps he was embarrassed for Harry to see the rest of the house. Or maybe he just didn't want to be caught talking to invisible people. Whatever the case, Harry tried to sound reassuring. "Okay, sure. I'll just stay here until you get back. I'll probably wake up soon anyway."

"All right," Snape said, then rose and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back. For a moment it seemed that he would speak, but instead he simply left the room and closed the door behind him.

Curious, Harry was tempted to follow Snape and watch how he interacted with his mum, but he kept his word and stayed where he was. Fortunately, he didn't have to pass a great deal of time alone in the small, drab room. As he'd predicted, he awoke before Snape returned.

* * * * *

The next time Harry appeared in Snape's bedroom it didn't come as a surprise, although it still felt like an invasion of privacy. Snape sat at a battered writing desk, bent over a sheet of parchment with quill in hand. Harry watched as he swiftly scribbled something, his large nose inches from the parchment. Snape paused briefly to chew on the end of his quill then scribbled some more.

Clearing his throat, Harry said, "Uhm. Hello?"

Snape nearly knocked the chair over in his haste to stand and draw his wand. Then he let out an unsteady breath and said, "Fuck, do you have to do that??"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I just reckoned you'd rather I say something than stay quiet and spy on you."

Snape scowled, but he didn't disagree. Shooting a glance at the door, he said, "My dad's home. We can't talk here."

"Do you think he can hear me?" Harry asked, speaking softly just in case.

"I don't know, but he can hear me." After a brief hesitation, Snape said, "Come on," and led the way out of the bedroom.

Harry followed Snape down a staircase and into a sitting room. A sour-looking man sat in front of an antiquated television set, flickering lights from a news program highlighting his sharp features. Snape hunched his shoulders and walked by quickly, probably hoping to go unnoticed. It evidently worked; Tobias Snape didn't look up from the telly.

They were outside soon enough, but Snape kept walking. He moved away from the line of brick row houses and through an undeveloped field, and Harry followed along silently, curious to see where Snape would take him. Finally they entered a thicket of trees, Snape ducking under branches and stepping over roots until he led Harry out into a small clearing.

Snape moved to the center of the clearing, dropped to the grass, and sat with his knees bent up. Without waiting for an invitation, Harry took a spot on the ground across from him. He could hear the trickle of running water from somewhere nearby, and felt certain that this was the spot where he had seen Snape and Lily talking as children. A peculiar sense of déjà vu flooded him even though he'd never actually been to the place before.

"This is… nice," Harry said, breaking the silence.

Snape shrugged. "It's quiet."

Based on what little he had pieced together about Snape's home life, Harry thought he could understand why Snape might seek a peaceful refuge. "Yeah, you seem like the sort who would like quiet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, every time I see you you're--" _alone_ "--reading or writing or studying. You're quite serious, aren't you?" As soon as he said it, Harry realized how true it was. Both as a child and as an adult, Snape had rarely seemed to smile, and Harry had never heard him laugh.

"I suppose. I intend to make something of myself and not spend my life kowtowing to other people."

The irony in Snape's statement was almost painful. "Hmm. Slytherin ambition," Harry said.

"Better than Gryffindor idiocy," Snape replied.

Smiling wryly, Harry said, "I prefer to think of it as Gryffindor spontaneity."

"You're a Gryffindor." It was more a statement than a question, and one about which Snape sounded less than pleased.

"I was," Harry confirmed.

Snape took a few seconds to absorb this, then asked, "What's your last name?"

Saying 'Potter' or 'Evans' was right out, so Harry replied with the next name that came to him. "Dursley." He groaned inwardly and wanted to kick himself for not anticipating this question and preparing for it in advance. Afraid that Snape might ask something even more unfortunate next, Harry quickly said, "So, what is it that you want to do when you finish school?"

Harry wondered if Snape might allude to Voldemort, but instead he turned his head, stared into the trees, and said, "That's none of your business."

"No, I suppose it isn't. But it's not like it's some sort of secret, is it? Unless you're training to become an Unspeakable!" Harry joked.

"As if I'd want to work for the Ministry," Snape sniffed. Haltingly he added, "I'm… good with potions."

"That's all right, then. So you want to do some sort of work with potions?" Harry prodded.

"Maybe." Snape shrugged. "I experiment with potion formulas a lot. Finding better ways to brew them and figuring out how to make new potions based on the properties of others."

"That's brill! Not everyone can do that."

With Harry showing interest in his abilities, Snape began to speak with more confidence. "Most people don't bother to understand why potions work the way they do at all, much less how they can be altered. You wouldn't believe how appalling the formulas in most potions textbooks are."

Recalling the copious notes in the Half-Blood Prince's potions text, Harry said, "Oh, I think I have some idea."

"Charms are almost as bad sometimes; all those unnecessary flourishes people insist on adding…"

With some directed questioning, Harry got Snape to talk more enthusiastically about his time spent altering potions and creating new spells. Harry noticed that he carefully avoided anything more than a few subtle allusions to dangerous hexes or the Dark Arts. Still, he seemed to relax more as the conversation went on, and, more importantly, he was too distracted to ask Harry any more awkward questions.

* * * * *

The sun's rays filtered down through the tree branches, creating irregular patterns of shadows across the clearing. Snape sat with his back to a tree, a book lying abandoned at his side. Harry watched as he scooped up a handful of tiny pebbles and tossed them across the clearing one by one. "All right, Snape?" Harry said.

This time Snape didn't jump or go for his wand when Harry spoke. Instead he flung the remaining stones away irritably and said, "It's about time. I've been here for the last three afternoons waiting for you to show up."

Taken aback, Harry said, "Uh… sorry? You know I can't control when and where I arrive."

"So you keep saying," Snape grumbled.

"Why've you been waiting here, anyway? I pop up wherever you are, and I've already seen your house."

"As if I give a bloody damn if you see my house. Did it occur to you that I might not want people to catch me apparently talking to myself?"

"People are more likely to find you out here, aren't they? Who's going to see you at home?" Harry asked. In answer, Snape grabbed another pile of pebbles and hurled them across the clearing. Harry immediately felt like an idiot. "Oh. Right. Your dad. I, uh, get the impression he's a bit of an arse..?"

"Rather more than a bit," Snape said. "Anyway, I like it out here better. And no one comes here anymore."

Harry knew from Snape's memories who used to come to the clearing with Snape, and he chose not to press that particular issue. He considered asking Snape more about his home life, but that was likely a sore point as well. Snape already seemed to be in a bit of a snit; Harry decided he'd rather not make it worse. The already awkward conversation lapsed into silence.

"Are you still there, Dursley? I have no desire to start _actually_ talking to myself."

"Yeah, I'm here, but -- ugh! Could you not call me that? I'm just Harry."

Snape looked towards him strangely for a few seconds, then said, "Fine, I'll call you by your first name if you'll call me by mine."

That Snape would ever ask Harry to call him by his given name, even in a roundabout way, was nearly unbelievable, and Harry felt strangely proud that he's been able to chip away at Snape's armor even that tiny amount. "Yeah, all right," he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "I can do that."

* * * * *

In the following days, Harry had surprisingly little trouble remembering to call Snape by his first name. It wasn't long before he started thinking of him as 'Severus' as well, almost as though he were an entirely different person than the 'Snape' who had been Harry's professor. The younger version was far more passionate and impetuous than the adult Snape had ever appeared to be, and while he was generally awkward, often moody, and occasionally tactless, he also possessed a keen mind and subtle wit that Harry came to appreciate.

As summer wore on, Harry spent quite a number of afternoons -- or nights, really, although it was becoming somewhat confusing to think of them that way -- with Snape. They talked about spells, classes, the results of Snape's O.W.L.s, and occasionally what a couple of arrogant prats James and Sirius were. Although Snape was gradually growing more relaxed with Harry, he was still careful not to mention anything too dark. Perhaps he assumed a Gryffindor wouldn't approve. Or else Harry simply hadn't revealed enough about himself to gain Snape's trust.

Usually Harry found Snape waiting for him in the thicket. Every now and then he came at an unexpected hour and ended up in Snape's house instead. Once he'd even popped in while Snape was sleeping. That time Harry had decided it was best just to keep quiet and avoid making Snape crabby or downright paranoid. He should have known it was only a matter of time before he arrived at a truly inopportune moment.

When Harry's dream began, he was immediately assaulted by the sound of what he could only assume was Snape's parents in the midst of a full-blown row. The bellows and shouts made their way up into Snape's room clearly enough for Harry to catch some of the words. Snape lay on his bed staring blankly at the far wall. "Hey, Severus," Harry said softly.

Snape was sitting upright before Harry could blink. "Harry? …Fuck."

There was no use pretending he couldn't hear the fight. Harry sat on the bed beside Snape and asked, "What are they arguing about?"

"It would be more practical to ask what they're _not_ arguing about," Snape answered, barely above a whisper. "Money, magic, me…"

"Magic? Your dad's a Muggle, isn't he?" He already knew the answer, of course, but Snape had never said as much.

"Yes," Snape admitted. A crash came from downstairs.

"So he gives you a hard time about being a wizard?"

Snape shrugged. "Among other things. It doesn't matter. I only have to be here for two months out of the year. And at this time next year I'll be of age and won't have to come here at all."

"Where would you go?"

"I have… friends who would put me up if I asked them."

Harry recalled the type of 'friends' Snape was keeping by his sixth year. All he could find to say was, "Ah."

"Did your parents really lock you in a cupboard?" Snape asked.

"It wasn't my parents. It was my aunt and uncle. And yeah, they did. When I was old enough to go away to Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore found out I was sleeping in a cupboard they were sort of forced to give me an actual bedroom. But they locked me in there too. Once they even put bars over the windows."

"Did they shout a lot?"

"Only at me."

Snape nodded slowly as he seemed to absorb this. Then he asked, "Bars? Really?"

"Yeah, it was the summer before my second year. But I escaped. With a little help, that is." Snape was listening attentively, so Harry continued with the story of his liberation via flying car. When he concluded the tale with a description of his uncle fuming and puffing impotently in the window as he watched Harry fly away, he was rewarded with a lopsided half-grin.

The unexpected expression sent a bolt of warmth coursing through Harry and he found himself grinning back even though Snape couldn't see it. Suddenly the row taking place below them no longer seemed so important to Harry, and even Snape looked more at ease. Harry decided he'd try telling another ridiculous story from his Hogwarts years and see if he could coax another smile out of Snape. They continued whispering together long after the clamor from downstairs had died down.

* * * * *

"Harry? Harry?" The voice calling his name sounded as though it were coming from far away.

"Mmph?"

"Harry?"

"Go 'way."

"Harry, wake up!"

" _What??_ " Harry asked crossly as his eyes snapped open. One minute he'd been lying on his back near Snape, looking up at the clouds and talking about nothing of any real significance, and the next he was being vigorously shaken by a very persistent Hermione.

Crossing her arms and fixing Harry with a disapproving look, Hermione said, "You've slept through your Alarm Charm and you're going to be late for training. I was _trying_ to do you a favor."

"But I was talking!" Harry said. Then he sat up and took in his surroundings. Reality slowly took hold. He was at home and in bed; Snape and the clearing were only dreams.

"Talking?" Hermione echoed. "You must have been having a dream."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I was." Harry ran his hand through his hair and felt sheepish. "A really vivid one. Er. Sorry about snapping at you."

"That's all right Harry, but you've got to get up or you're going to be really late!"

Throwing back the covers and scrambling out of bed, Harry said, "Thanks, Hermione." He grabbed his robes and ran to shower and dress.

"I'll make some toast and tea you can take with you," Hermione called after him.

Thanks to Hermione's intervention, Harry narrowly avoided being late for Concealment and Disguise. Still, a sense of unease at what had transpired that morning lingered throughout the day. He'd never been a heavy sleeper, and sleeping through an Alarm Charm was virtually unheard of for him. The dreams were feeling more real by the day, which was more than a little disconcerting after Harry's shared visions with Voldemort during his fifth year at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, he knew that his dreams about Snape were merely dreams, no matter how vivid they might be, and not the result of dark magic. He vowed to set as many Alarms as were necessary and not allow nighttime fantasies to interfere with his real life.

Harry should have realized the incident wouldn't pass unremarked by his best friends, however. It was only two days later, on Saturday, when the matter came up again. He and Ron were sitting outside Ron and Hermione's home, enjoying the cooler weather that came with the approach of autumn. Idly Ron tossed a Quaffle from hand to hand as they chatted about training or Quidditch or the latest bit of absurdity in _The Daily Prophet_.

When the conversation entered a natural lull, Ron said, "So Hermione mentioned she had to wake you up so you wouldn't be late for training the other day. Something about a really vivid dream?"

"Yeah, it was weird," Harry replied. "I slept right through the Alarm Charm."

"Wow, you never do that, mate. Must have been some dream."

"Heh. I guess you could say that." Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Well, at least you're not having those nightmares about Snape anymore, right?"

Harry's first reaction was to simply agree with Ron and move the discussion along to another topic. He had no reason to hide the truth, though, did he? It wasn't like he'd chosen to dream about Snape. It might even ease his friends' minds to know that the nightmares seemed to have passed at last. "Actually," he said, "that's not _entirely_ the case."

"You're still having those grisly dreams about Snape popping his clogs, then? Tough break," Ron said with as much sympathy as he had ever been known to muster.

"No, no," Harry said. "Those are gone. It's just that I'm still having dreams about Snape. Technically."

"Technically?"

"That is, I'm not having dreams about Professor Snape -- the Snape that we knew. I'm dreaming about Snape as a student, like he was in the memories."

"Merlin's pants, Harry, your subconscious mind sure likes to torment you!"

"No, it's not bad!" Ron looked at him skeptically, and Harry felt the need to explain further. "There's nothing horrible in these dreams for once, you know? No Voldemort or Death Eaters or war. It's just… Snape. Doing regular things. At first I could only follow along and watch him, but after a while he started to be able to hear me. So now we mostly just sit around and talk." Harry realized how dull it must sound, and finished off with an apologetic shrug.

The explanation only seemed to horrify Ron more. "Yeah, but it's _Snape_! Who'd want to look at the slimy git, much less talk to him, all night long?"

"He's really not so horrible once you get to know him a bit. Sure, he's kind of prickly and sarcastic, but he starts to relax after he decides he can trust you, I think. And he's really bloody smart, and sort of funny once you figure out when he's joking…" Harry trailed off when he realized that he was rambling, and further, that it likely wasn't helping his case.

"Blimey, Harry, you're talking about him like he's real! You do realize Snape's dead, right?"

Harry blinked. "Of course!" he said, forcing a bit of a laugh. "I mean, I was there, right? Yeah, I know, they're just dreams. I suppose I'm just happy that I'm not dreaming something gruesome for a change. Apparently, even boring conversation about potions with Snape-the-spotty-teenager is an improvement over that!"

"I guess I see your point," Ron conceded. "It's not like I didn't have some right rotten dreams too, after everything. About Fred and all." He looked down at the Quaffle in his hands.

"I imagine we all did. Or still do."

Ron nodded his agreement, then the discussion turned to cheerier matters. Later, Harry wondered if telling Ron about his dreams had been a huge mistake.

* * * * *

September came, and with it, the second stage of Harry's Auror training and the start of a new school year. Harry wasn't at all surprised when, on the second night of the month, he found himself dreaming of Hogwarts again. He arrived in a narrow, dimly lit hallway where Snape was talking with two Slytherin students whom Harry didn't recognize.

"…frustrating that we're still in school so they won't tell us a great deal yet," one, a tall boy with sandy-blond hair, was saying. "They hinted at some things, though, and we overheard others."

"Then you have more information than I do. In my… situation… I can do little but watch the Muggle news," Snape said, his tone contemptuous. "They're reporting unprecedented levels of murder and accidental death in Britain, yet they're too obtuse to comprehend what's taking place right in front of them."

"It's shameful that we must hide ourselves away and live in fear of discovery by such inferior beings," the other said, his voice smooth and quiet. His black hair and red lips stood out in stark contrast to his pale complexion, and Harry felt like he should recognize the boy's eerie features from someplace.

Snape nodded in agreement then asked, "What things did you hear?"

The tall one spoke again. "The Dark Lord has been more active than ever. Not only in the obvious ways, but behind the scenes. Politically. He now has people in some of the highest branches of the Ministry."

"And he has more followers coming to him by the day, it seems," said the other.

"Bah! Most of them are frightened into it and are only protecting their own skin! They don't deserve to even kneel at his feet."

"As the Dark Lord is well aware," Snape said. "Which is precisely why he will see our value when we're able to join him."

" _If_ we're ever able to join him. We've still two years left in this wretched school."

"You should use the time to actually _learn_ something, Avery," Snape said.

 _Avery!_ Harry quickly put the information from Snape's memories together with his own recollection of the fight at the Department of Mysteries and realized that the dark one had to be Mulciber. Lily had described him as "creepy," he remembered. Harry thought she'd been generous.

"Agreed," Mulciber said. "My father spent the summer teaching me the most effective way to cast the Imperius Curse, among other things. It will be most useful in future, I imagine."

Harry felt his blood boil at how casually they talked about the murder of Muggles and the use of Unforgivable curses. The fact that Snape was a participant in the discussion made it all a hundred times worse. Of course Harry had known about Snape's ambition to become a Death Eater, but this was the first time he'd been faced with the reality of it. He wished he could manifest physically in this dream just so he could punch Snape in his oversized nose and knock some sense into him.

In his anger, Harry had briefly lost the thread of the conversation. When he regained his focus, Mulciber and Avery were nodding their goodbyes to Snape and moving off down the corridor. Harry barely waited until they were out of earshot before he said, "So this is what you want to do when you leave school?? This is how you intend to make something of yourself?!"

Snape nearly jumped out of his robes when Harry spoke. "Fuck, what the hell! Do you have to do that?!"

Ignoring Snape's discomposure, Harry went on, "You told me you didn't want to spend your life bowing to others. Don't you know that's exactly what you'll be doing if you join him?!" He clenched his fists to try to stop the shaking in his hands.

Snape's expression darkened. "You're wrong. He'll see my value and respect me for my talents. His most loyal supporters will share in his power."

"No, _you're_ wrong. His 'supporters' are nothing more than pawns for him to use and dispose of at will! He respects no one."

"That's a load of Ministry bollocks! He respects those who are devoted to his cause."

"Devoted?" Harry sighed. "Severus, do you honestly want to kill people? And torture them? Not just Muggles, but _anyone_ who opposes him or displeases him?"

"You're just spouting propaganda! I thought you were smarter than that. What do you know about the Dark Lord, anyway?!" Snape spat.

"I know he killed my parents," Harry said.

"Oh." Harry's revelation seemed to stop Snape short. He opened and closed his mouth as though he wanted to ask a question but didn't know how.

"Why?" Harry supplied for him. "My mum was Muggleborn. My dad was pureblood, so I guess that made him a blood traitor, right?"

Before Snape could formulate an answer, the dispute was interrupted by a sudden rush of footsteps and voices somewhere nearby. "I have to get to Transfiguration," Snape said. "I'll be damned if I'm going to be caught arguing with myself when I'm supposed to be in class." With that, he turned on his heel and stomped away, leaving Harry alone to fume.

* * * * *

"…so Slughorn turned around just in time to see Black's cauldron overflowing and me holding the bubotuber pod, and thought I'd sabotaged Black's potion," Snape complained.

"Oh, that's crap," Harry sympathized. "And it's not even terribly clever!"

Harry sat with Snape on the floor of a seldom-used corridor within the school. It was the third time he had dreamed of Snape since their argument. Things had been awkward at first, but Snape seemed determined to pretend as though nothing unusual had transpired. Harry had been racking his brain for some way to convince Snape not to join Voldemort, but so far he'd come up empty.

"Normally I would point out that Gryffindors aren't exactly picked for their brilliance, but considering my present company, I suppose I'll refrain," Snape said, a hint of a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth.

"Very good of you. Otherwise I'd be forced to note that it's actually Ravenclaws who are chosen for their brains, while Gryffindors are picked for their courage and valor, and Slytherins for their sneaky underhandedness and bad attitudes."

"Bloody right," Snape agreed. "Anyway, I guess I'm lucky Slughorn never bothers to give anyone detention, but he made me share my potion with Black, which was probably just as bad."

"Ouch," Harry said. "I suppose you're already thinking of ways to retaliate?"

"Naturally. And when I do, I--" Snape broke off abruptly. An instant later Harry heard a lone set of footfalls approaching them. Snape stood and drew his wand. Although there wasn't much of anything Harry could do to assist in the event of a duel, he rose to stand beside Snape anyway.

Of all the people in the castle who Harry might have expected to amble down the hallway towards them, Albus Dumbledore was one of the last. Nonetheless, that was precisely who was approaching, the gold stars and moons on his robes shining brightly against their purple background. When he drew nearer, an elusive smile formed on his lips and he peered down at Snape over the rims of his glasses. "Ah, Mr. Snape. Good afternoon."

"Headmaster," Snape acknowledged. His tone was respectful but his expression and posture were guarded.

"I thought I heard voices down this corridor," Dumbledore said. "It seems that I was correct. This is good to know, as it means I've not lost my mind and become delusional. However, it seems a rather peculiar place to loiter."

"I wanted a safe place to practice _Aguamenti_ and a couple of new counter-jinxes," Snape explained.

"Ah, I see. Excellent; I'm certain your professors will appreciate your effort."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore glanced around the corridor then, his gaze passing over Harry's location smoothly. "I could have sworn I heard you speaking to someone."

"No, I'm alone."

"As I see. Well then, I commend you for your independence. Of course, I've always felt that time spent with friends is of equal importance as time spent alone. Some friends are more valuable than others, however." Dumbledore gave Snape a pointed look at the last.

"I… will take that under advisement," Snape said, clearly not quite certain of Dumbledore's meaning but also not wishing to extend the conversation by asking for clarification.

"Very good, very good," Dumbledore said. "Well then, I shall leave you to your practice." He began to leave, but stopped and turned back. "Oh, and Mr. Snape -- be careful that you do not begin talking to yourself. They say that is a sure sign of insanity." His gaze slowly shifted from Snape to the precise spot where Harry stood beside him and back again. Then Dumbledore turned and wandered back down the hallway, whistling tunelessly.

* * * * *

Harry arrived to find Snape making his way through a low, earthen tunnel, a faint glow emanating from the tip of his wand to light his way. It took only seconds for Harry to gain his bearings and recognize the passage that led to the Shrieking Shack. An instant later, he realized what Snape must be doing there and his heart lurched. "Severus, wait!" he called out after him.

Snape started, smacking his head against the roof of the tunnel. "Your timing is impeccable as always," he said through clenched teeth.

Frantically, Harry tried to think of a way to convince Snape to go back. He maneuvered around in front of Snape even though he knew he couldn't physically block his passage. For the first time, he truly wished he could be corporeal in the dreams. "What are you doing down here?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going to find out what Potter and his mates get up to at night," Snape replied, his voice hushed but his tone determined.

"You followed them?"

"No… Black told me how to find them."

"Sirius told you? And that didn't strike you as a wee bit dodgy??"

"Of course it did!" Snape hissed.

"Then why are you doing what he said?"

"What other choice do I have?"

"How about not taking the obvious bait?!" Harry said, dismayed that Snape's curiosity apparently overruled his better sense.

"I’m not afraid of them." Snape's hand tightened on his wand and he began to advance again.

Moving to remain in front of Snape, Harry said, "Wait, just wait. You can't go down there. It's not safe."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about it?"

"Okay, look," Harry said. "You know how Lupin's ill a lot?" He didn't want to reveal Remus' secret, but it was the only thing he could think up that might convince Snape to turn back. And if Snape continued forward, he'd find out anyway.

"…Yes…"

"You're smart and observant. You must have noticed that he's always out of class at the same time every month."

"During the full moon. So I was right! He _is_ a werewolf!" Snape sounded almost gleeful to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Yeah. And I assume the current phase of the moon hasn't escaped your notice?"

"It's full. So?"

"So, have you ever _seen_ a werewolf? Trust me when I say you do _not_ want to meet one face to face!"

Snape hesitated, and it was enough. At that moment, James came racing down the passage. A jolt went through Harry at suddenly seeing James -- his _dad_ \-- right in front of him, but things were happening too quickly for him to process it. Running as fast at the tunnel would allow, James nearly crashed right into Snape. He barely managed to pull up short, then said, "Snape! Snape, I found out what Sirius told you. You have to get out of here! Go back!"

"Why's that, Potter? Don't want me to see what's down there?" Snape said, turning his wand on James.

"Look, it's not safe. It's a trap." James panted for breath.

"A rather deadly one this time! I know about Lupin. Was your plan to murder me and then have the werewolf _eat_ the evidence?"

James looked sick. "Christ, Snape, no one wants to murder you! I didn't even know about what Sirius told you. Remus didn't either. Sirius is an idiot. He just wanted to scare you. Thought it would be a laugh. He didn't think about the consequences. Please, Snape, you have to go back!"

"I'll go back. And I won't tell anybody about your pet werewolf. And I won't even tell the Headmaster that Black tried to kill me. If."

"If?" James repeated.

"You call off your bloody sycophants and leave me the fuck alone. I have better things to do with my time than arse around with you cunts."

"…Fine."

"I mean it. Black too. Keep a leash on your dog or the whole school finds out about Lupin."

"Fine. Just go." James sounded relieved, disgusted, infuriated, and weary all at once.

Snape glared at James, then pushed past him roughly. As Snape made his way back toward Hogwarts, Harry started to breathe again.

* * * * *

The next time Harry arrived in Hogwarts, Snape swiftly led him to a remote corridor. As soon as they were a safe distance from the busiest parts of the castle, Snape rounded on him, his expression thunderous. "I looked in the school records while you were gone," he said. "No Harry Dursley has attended Hogwarts in at least the last hundred years."

Once more, Harry mentally berated himself for not having predicted this eventuality. "Are you sure? You must have overlooked it."

Snape shot a disparaging look in Harry's direction.

"Okay, fine. So maybe I didn't attend school here exactly when I implied."

"I'm beginning to wonder if you ever attended school here at all," Snape said. "Either you lied about that, or you lied about your identity, or you're not from this time."

Harry wanted to tell Snape that he'd never lied to him, but that would be a lie in and of itself. Not knowing what to say, he remained silent.

"Ha! You don't deny it!" said Snape.

"Look, Severus, I--"

Ignoring Harry for the moment, Snape began to pace up and down the hallway. "You know a lot about Hogwarts -- the curriculum, the routines, the professors, the layout of the castle… More than you could have learned by simply watching everything for a while, I think. You have stories about when you were a student here and you're obviously attached to Gryffindor. You're not a good enough liar to make all of that up."

"Gee, thanks."

"So which is it?" Snape stopped pacing and turned to glare at Harry again. "Are you not who you claim to be, or are you not from this time? Personally, I'm betting on the former; it's a much simpler and more likely answer."

There was no way Harry was going to admit that it was actually both. He didn't want to lie to Snape, but if he told the complete truth, he was certain Snape would no longer want to talk to him. For some reason, that possibility make Harry feel a bit sick. Coming to a decision, he said, "Sometimes the simplest answer isn't the correct one."

"You're seriously not from this time?" Snape sounded skeptical.

"No."

"So, what, are you a ghost?"

"Do I look like a ghost?" Harry realized how dumb the question was as soon as it was out of his mouth. "Never mind, don't answer that. No, I'm not a ghost."

"How do you know? Maybe you're dead and you don't know it."

"Ugh, very cheery of you! Yeah, maybe I don't realize I'm dead, or maybe you don't realize you're a figment of my imagination."

"Point taken," Snape said. "All right, fine. Let's assume for a moment that I believe you. Your speech isn't antiquated and your knowledge is up-to-date. You'd have to be from the future."

"Yeah, I suppose I am."

"And if the Dark Lord killed your parents, then it would have to be the not-too-distant future," Snape mused. Uncomfortable with the amount of information that Snape was able to infer, Harry didn't reply. It didn't matter; Snape didn't wait for confirmation. Abruptly, he asked, "Do you know me in the future?"

"Not really."

"'Not really?' It was a yes or no question."

Harry sighed. "Okay, see, this is exactly why I didn't tell you in the first place. I knew you'd start asking me all sorts of questions, and I don't want… I'm not sure how much I should tell you. I don't know what the consequences would be. Messing with time is complicated and dangerous, right?"

"If you were really worried about that you wouldn't have talked to me in the first place," Snape said, scowling. He sounded more petulant than angry now, though.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know. Anyway, it's up to me to decide what and how much I want to tell."

"Fine. I won't ask you anything else. For now."

That was the best Harry was likely to get, and more than he'd been able to hope for at the beginning of the conversation. He knew that it would take some time to regain Snape's trust, but he could live with that. It was a minor triumph that Snape was still speaking to him at all.

"So," Harry asked, "did you get that horrible Transfiguration essay finished?"

* * * * *

When Hermione stepped out of Harry's Floo, she was carrying a large, old-looking book in her arms. That was rarely a good sign, Harry thought. "Hi, Hermione," he said. "Been doing some research?"

"Hi, Harry. Yes, of a sort. It's more of a personal project, really."

"That sounds ominous."

"Why don't we go down to the kitchen and have some tea and biscuits while we talk?" Hermione suggested.

"Oh no. It's going to be one of _those_ talks, is it?" Harry teased. Hermione slapped him on the arm, and he grinned.

Ten minutes later they were seated in the kitchen, teacups in hand and a plate of biscuits between them. "Okay, so what's with the tremendous tome of terror?" Harry asked. "No, let me guess. It's _Hogwarts: A History: The Revised and Illustrated Edition_ , right?"

"Very funny," Hermione said. "No, I've been looking for information about dreams."

Harry barely suppressed a groan. "Didn't you get enough of that from Professor Trelawney?"

" _Not_ that kind of information." Hermione scowled. "Ron tells me your dreams about Snape have changed. You're not having recurring nightmares about the Shrieking Shack anymore?"

"Nope. I haven't had one of those in over three months now."

"That's great, Harry! Truly."

"Trust me, I know," Harry said. "Those weren't exactly my idea of a swell time."

"So you're dreaming about Snape as a student now?"

"Yeah." Harry set his cup down. "I know what you're going to say. Something about my 'guilt complex' or my 'saving people thing' or the like. But it's not like that. These dreams aren't bad." _Most of the time._

"Actually, I wasn't going to say that."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Really. Ron said you were talking about Snape and the dreams like they were real, though."

"Ah." Harry had known he'd end up regretting telling Ron about the dreams. He made a mental note to kill his best mate later. "It's just that they're really vivid when they're happening. It's okay, I know they're only dreams."

"Maybe not," Hermione said, frowning.

"Uh. Come again?"

Hermione pulled the tome over and waved her wand above it, making it open to the page she wanted. "It turns out there are a lot of types of magic that can allow a person to enter someone else's dreams. This book talks about a number of spells, both enchantments and curses, which can do it. Some of them are pretty Dark."

"So you think I've been cursed?"

"Not necessarily. I can't think of any reason why anyone would want to do something like that to you. After all, if someone wanted to hurt you, there are much worse curses. But could you have been accidentally hit with something in Auror training? Or did you cast any spell at all a few months ago that could affect dreams? Maybe there was a spell that backfired?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry said, searching his memory. "Anyway, I'm not showing up in anyone's dreams. I'm the one who's dreaming and showing up while Severus is awake."

"Severus?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't want him calling me by my last name all the time, so it only seemed fair," Harry said. He reached for a biscuit and hoped he wasn't blushing too much.

"Right, well, it might seem like you're dreaming and Snape's awake, but it's possible that's not the case."

"You think we could both be dreaming?"

"That's possible. Or maybe it's not actually Snape and someone else is entering your dreams, pretending to be him."

The idea was incredibly disturbing to Harry, but it didn't seem plausible somehow. "I don't know… It really seems like Snape. I'm not sure anyone else could fake his personality, you know?"

"Well, there is another option," Hermione offered.

"Oh?"

"Apparently, in some cases, people can begin to visit each other in dreams or trance states when there's a particularly powerful connection between them. It seems to be a very rare phenomenon and I haven't found any magical theory that attempts to explain how or why it happens, but instances have been recorded."

"Wait, how could that even be possible? A powerful connection? Snape and I hated each other while he was alive."

"True, but all that loathing translates into a lot of passion," Hermione said. "Also, he spent years trying to protect and help you, even if he did hate you. You saw a lot of his memories. You practiced Legilimency on each other. And you were looking into each other's eyes when he died."

"All that sort of makes sense," Harry said, "except that you're forgetting one important detail. Snape's _dead_."

Hermione frowned. "I know. I don't have an answer for that yet."

"But you do think my dreams are… more than ordinary dreams?" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd been struggling to remind himself that the dreams weren't real for weeks, and now Hermione was telling him that they might be after all, at least on some level. He couldn't seem to get a handle on the idea.

"Would you rather I thought you'd lost your mind?" Hermione asked, smiling wryly.

"No!" Harry laughed. "Definitely not."

"I didn't think so," Hermione said. Pushing the book aside, she picked up her teacup and took a sip.

Harry hesitated, then asked, "Hermione? What are the chances I'm actually entering the past?"

There was a pause as Hermione considered the question. At last she said, "I don't know. It doesn't seem likely, but we know firsthand that time travel is possible. If your connection with Snape were particularly strong… Well, we've seen a lot of strange things, haven't we?"

"Very strange," Harry agreed. "You're right, though. There's got to be a simpler answer." But hadn't he just told Snape that the simplest answer wasn't always the correct one? "Hell, maybe they really are just dreams."

"Maybe," Hermione said. "Just be careful, Harry."

* * * * *

Rebuilding Snape's trust turned out to be a slightly less arduous task than Harry had anticipated. Snape was still suspicious, standoffish, and sore about having been deceived. But now that Harry had admitted he was from the future, he didn't have to be quite so guarded about what he told Snape. He was able to relate stories to Snape a little more freely, and this in turn seemed to allow Snape to trust him more readily. Or withdraw less thoroughly, at least.

"…except that, unbeknownst to us, Hermione hadn't actually got one of Millicent's hairs," Harry said. "She got one of Millicent's cats'."

"She didn't!"

"Yep. Dark hairs on dark robes… I guess it was an easy mistake to make." Harry shrugged. "Anyway, she sprouted fur and fangs and claws; the whole nine yards. It took us ten minutes to talk her out of the cubicle! She ended up…" Snape had begun to stare at him with an odd expression, and Harry trailed off mid-sentence. "What is it?"

"I just… I thought… Nothing," Snape said.

"No, really, what was it? Don't worry; I already know you're a nutter. After all, you talk to invisible people," Harry joked.

"I thought I saw you for a second."

"Seriously?" Harry asked. "What did you see?"

Snape shook his head. "Just a flash. Some color. It was probably nothing."

Harry didn't know how he felt about the possibility of becoming visible to Snape. On one hand, it might be nice if Snape could look at him, talk directly to his face, and see his expressions. Their interactions might be somewhat more normal then. On the other hand, Harry wasn't certain how Snape would react to his physical similarities to James, or whether Snape might be put off by his appearance for some other reason.

Regardless of how Harry felt about it, his visibility seemed to be inevitable. The next time Harry arrived, Snape continued to see flashes of color or shifting patterns wherever Harry went. The time after, Snape could spot a faint outline or silhouette. Harry became more clear with each visit, and Snape seemed intrigued by the process, speculating as to its cause.

Since they didn't yet know whether Harry was visible to anyone else, Snape had taken to waiting for Harry in a remote hallway lined with rusting suits of armor. The suits were generally still, but every now and then one would sleepily move an arm or turn its head, sending a creaky echo bouncing off the stone walls.

Harry arrived one afternoon to find Snape bent over his Potions text and noting something in the margin. "All right, Severus?" he said by way of greeting.

"Oh, hi, Ha--" Snape broke off as he looked up at Harry. An instant later he was on his feet with his wand drawn. "I knew it! I knew it all along! It just had to be one of your tricks, didn't it, Potter?!"

Unlike on previous occasions, Harry was prepared for this eventuality. "Severus, what are you-- Wait a minute, you think I'm James Potter?" Harry hoped his tone was a believable blend of surprised and offended.

Snape screwed up his eyes and studied Harry, then much of his anger drained away. "No, I. You're not. But there are rather distinct similarities," he accused.

Despite the number of times Sirius and Remus had remarked upon Harry's resemblance to his father, Harry knew that he was far from an exact copy. "Why? Just because I have dark hair and wear spectacles?" He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I suppose that must be it. And you're still not very clear, you know," Snape grumbled as he pocketed his wand.

"All right, I guess I can accept that. I'll forgive you this time." Harry smiled to let Snape know he wasn't truly insulted. Snape's only response was a small huff. "Well. Sorry," Harry added. "I suppose you must be disappointed."

"What? No! I mean. I didn't have any expectations one way or another!"

Harry was puzzled by Snape's response. He could swear Snape was blushing. "Oh. That's good then." Snape still didn't say anything. Suddenly Harry thought to wonder if he were naked. That would certainly explain Snape's reaction. Looking down, he saw that he was fully dressed in burgundy robes, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. "So, what were you working on before I showed up?" Harry prompted.

"Oh! I think I've found a way to alter the formula for Everlasting Elixirs that would shorten the brewing time by a little under two hours." Snape rushed to retrieve his textbook, and Harry found himself grinning at Snape's enthusiasm.

After another visit or two, Harry looked nearly solid although he was still insubstantial and unable to affect his surroundings. Snape didn't comment on his appearance again, but Harry caught him gazing at him oddly more than a few times. It was a bit disconcerting, but Harry didn't worry about it overmuch.

* * * * *

Not long after Harry became visible, he and Snape received another surprise visit from Dumbledore. This time when the Headmaster came wandering down the hallway, fuchsia and silver robes sparkling, Harry was certain it wasn't a coincidence. When they saw him coming, Snape opened a textbook and pretended to be studying a spell while Harry dove behind the nearest suit of armor. "Ah, Mr. Snape. We meet again," Dumbledore said by way of greeting.

Snapping his book shut and rising to his feet, Snape said, "Headmaster."

"For a moment I thought I heard you talking to yourself again. But in light of our previous conversation, I will instead choose to believe you were speaking to the suits of armor. I've done the same myself from time to time. They are most attentive listeners, I've found, but not so good at offering advice."

"Uh. I imagine not."

"A most peculiar thing has been occurring in the castle of late. I wonder if you've noticed it."

Snape's eyes widened slightly. "What's that?"

"Some of the professors have reported a noticeable decline in the number of hours they've spent monitoring detention. Mr. Pringle has also remarked upon a reduced workload due to having to clean far fewer slime spills, dung splatters, and scorch marks. It's been almost quiet. I can't help but wonder if you and a certain group of Gryffindors might have something to do with this phenomenon?"

"We, ah, might have come to an agreement," Snape hedged.

"A mutually satisfactory one, I hope?"

"You'd have to ask them that."

I see," Dumbledore said. "You know, it's rather amazing. I've been intimately familiar with Hogwarts for several decades and yet I manage to discover new things in it with some regularity."

"Oh?" Snape asked, looking more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Indeed. For instance, just the other day I happened across a classroom with which I hadn't previously been familiar. It was on the third floor at the far end of the east wing, if I remember correctly. It must have fallen out of disuse quite some time ago, if the amount of dust can be any indication."

Apparently at a loss for words, Snape stared at Dumbledore blankly.

"Well, I suppose I've kept you long enough. I'll let you get back to your conversation," Dumbledore said. Instead of leaving immediately, however, he walked slowly over to the suit of armor behind which Harry was hiding. He stopped just on the other side, lifted a hand, and touched his fingertips to the steel. Very quietly, he said, "You and I should speak soon." Then he turned, said, "Good day, Mr. Snape," and strolled back in the direction from which he'd come.

* * * * *

Harry stood at the entrance to the Headmaster's office and stared at the gargoyle statue in contemplation. Dumbledore hadn't given him a password this time, and he wondered how he should proceed. He considered naming off every sweet he could think of, but he had no way of knowing whether Dumbledore even used them as his passwords in this time. Even if he did, listing them all could be time consuming, and Harry didn't want to risk being seen or heard. It seemed that he was left with only one option, then.

Being incorporeal, Harry could pass through solid objects. He didn't particularly like doing so; it was disturbing to him and he always worried that he'd get stuck in something. He wasn't going to let his discomfort stop him from seeing Dumbledore, though, so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped forward. There was a sense of pressure from all directions and a feeling like stone scraping lightly through every part of Harry's body. As soon as the sensations lifted, he opened his eyes and found himself riding the revolving staircase to the top.

When Harry had arrived in Hogwarts minutes earlier, Snape had been striding purposefully down a hallway, a load of books under his arm. Harry had taken advantage of his distraction to slip away silently and head for the second floor. He'd hated not talking with Snape, especially since he never knew when he might dream of him next, but he'd known he wouldn't be able to put off talking with Dumbledore for long. It was best just to get it over with, and Harry was as prepared for the meeting as he was ever likely to be.

At the top of the stairs, Harry paused in front of the oak door before pressing through it. On the other side, Dumbledore sat at his desk, a small crease forming between his brows as he read a scroll in his hands. Sunlight from the windows glinted off the peculiar silver gadgets scattered about the room as they whirred and spun and puffed. From his perch, Fawkes trilled at Harry. It was almost as though Harry had been transported back to his first years at Hogwarts, save that Dumbledore's hair still held a hint of its original auburn. Harry cleared his throat. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore?"

Looking up from his scroll, Dumbledore said, "Ah, excellent. I'd hoped that we might have the opportunity to speak soon. Please, have a seat. I would offer you a sherbet lemon, but I imagine that would be fairly pointless."

Harry moved to the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, sat, and waited for Dumbledore to say more. He would willingly answer questions, but he wouldn't begin the conversation by volunteering information unasked. "Well," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don't believe I know anything about you. Have we met?"

"Not yet," Harry said.

"I see," Dumbledore said in a way that suggested he had understood Harry's meaning. "In that case, what may I call you?"

"My name is Harry."

"Very well, Harry. Forgive me for beginning with the most obvious and predictable questions, but they truly do provide an important foundation from which to work. What are you doing here in Hogwarts? Or, more to the point, precisely how and why are you visiting us?"

"I'll get back to you on that once I know," Harry said. Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. "It's not intentional and I can't control it," Harry explained. "The best way I can describe it is that I'm actually somewhere else, but part of me visits here sometimes."

"Interesting," Dumbledore remarked. "I can't help but notice that you've taken a particular interest in one of the students during your visits."

"Why? Shouldn't I have?"

"On the contrary. It's not at all unexpected that someone in your rather unique position would begin to feel an affinity for one or more of the individuals he encountered here. Rather, it's with whom you've sought to develop a rapport that has surprised me."

Harry felt his anger rising at Dumbledore's disregard for Snape. "Like you said, some friends are more valuable than others."

Dumbledore's expression grew more severe. "Almost from the moment he set foot in Hogwarts, Mr. Snape has demonstrated a certain disregard for social niceties and an inclination for somewhat dubious subjects. This has not endeared him to his peers in general."

"He's also brilliant, inventive, determined, and passionate," Harry said.

"Undoubtedly. It's what he will choose to do with these traits that is in question."

"He's not evil. He's worth saving."

"They're all worth saving," Dumbledore said, "and yet they cannot all be saved. Mr. Snape has already chosen his path. I hardly see what I can do to change that."

"A person can always choose a new path," Harry insisted. "I don't know about you, but I would hate to be defined forever by one naïve choice I made when I was young."

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a penetrating gaze, and Harry forced himself not to fidget or look away. It occurred to him to wonder whether it was possible to perform Legilimency on an incorporeal person. At last Dumbledore asked, "What would you have me do?"

A small thrill of victory sped through Harry. "Take an interest in him. Give him another option. Show him that there are other ways for him to be recognized and valued for his skills."

"Very well. I'll consider what you've said. If you're willing to speak so adamantly on his behalf, perhaps I've dismissed Mr. Snape too hastily. We shall see."

"Thank you," Harry said. For the first time he felt as though he had a fighting chance of preventing Snape from making a terrible mistake.

"You're welcome," Dumbledore said. "And Harry. We'll talk again."

"Yes, I know we will."

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun gleamed through the high windows, sending its bronze beams into the classroom and highlighting the dust motes that hung and danced in the air. A vast cornucopia of dust motes. Harry sneezed violently.

Snape spun at the sound, wand upraised, then relaxed when he saw that it was Harry. "Bugger," he said. "I was trying to get it done before you showed up again."

"Get what done?" Harry asked. "And where are we?"

The classroom was one that Harry hadn't seen before. Except for an enormous chalkboard, the walls were bare. The room was largely devoid of furnishings as well. A row of chairs lined one side of the room while several mats were stacked up on the other. Harry imagined that the space must have been used for the practical portion of a DADA class at one time, and he wondered about the students who had once practiced Shield Charms and counter-curses here.

"This," Snape said, indicating the space around him, "is the unused classroom Dumbledore mentioned. I've been cleaning it." He seemed decidedly proud of himself.

"So I see," Harry said, holding back another sneeze triggered by the stirred-up dust.

"If you think it's dusty now, you should have seen it before." Snape sniffed. "An inch thick, and it was a right pain in the arse getting it out of the mats."

"Oh, I can imagine. I remember Professor Dumbledore said it hadn't been used in a long time and was really dirty," Harry said, attempting to assure Snape that he'd done a good job. "I'm kind of surprised you decided to trust him and take advantage of the room, though."

"I don't trust him entirely. But I checked the room for any sort of surveillance spells and couldn't find any. And besides, he already seems to know about you."

"I get the feeling he knows about everything that happens inside the school," Harry said. "But that's sort of his job, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Snape grudgingly agreed. He walked over to the row of chairs and sat, and Harry followed him.

"So are James and his mates still leaving you alone?" Harry asked.

"For the most part. Black keeps snarling at me, but Potter elbows him in the ribs before he can do anything. Plus, I think Lupin is still not speaking to Black. It's all rather amusing, really."

At least Snape seemed to realize that Remus and James hadn't been in on Sirius' ill-conceived prank. That was some sort of improvement, Harry thought. "And you've actually resisted the temptation to provoke them? I'm astonished."

"Well. I might have smiled and waved at Black from across the Great Hall once or twice… But no, there haven't been any hexes involved. Like I said, I have better things to do than faff about with those imbeciles."

"Plus I imagine you kind of like the current arrangement. You have a clear advantage over them for once."

"Yes, or at least they think I do. I've thought about it. I reckon you're right about Dumbledore knowing everything that goes on in this place. He must know about Lupin. If I went to him about what happened, it would probably get me tossed out on my ear, not them. But _they_ can't be sure of that."

"I don't think anyone would get tossed out," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't hate you. He told you about this room, didn't he?"

"Yes," Snape said, glancing about the classroom and looking perplexed. His attention snapped back to Harry suddenly. "The room. When you first got here you sneezed."

"Er, yeah."

"From the dust."

"Yeah, so?" Harry asked, not understanding why Snape thought that was significant.

Snape rolled his eyes. "So, you had a _physical_ reaction to something here."

Harry's eyes widened. "You think I might be becoming solid?"

"Why not? It wouldn't be any more strange than the fact that a bloke from the future is inadvertently visiting me through his dreams."

"Okay, you have a point."

"Can I… I'm going to try to touch you. Hold out your arm and, I don't know, focus on being corporeal or something," Snape ordered.

Harry did as instructed. Lifting his hand, Snape stretched out his fingers and slowly reached for him. A little thrill of anticipation slithered though Harry and his pulse quickened. He willed himself to be tangible and watched intently as Snape's fingertips touched his skin… then passed into his arm. Snape's fingers felt like silk sliding through him, and they left a tingling sensation in their wake. The fine hairs on Harry's flesh stood up, and Harry shivered.

Snape withdrew his hand, breaking the spell. Harry exhaled. "Damn."

"Oh well." Snape looked away and shrugged. "The sneeze must have been coincidence. Or the result of suggestion."

Shaking off the last of the peculiar haze, Harry said, "Oi! Are you saying I'm weak-minded?"

"I don't need to say it," Snape said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "At Hogwarts they dress the weak-minded students in bright red and gold as a warning to their professors and classmates."

The conversation moved easily from familiar banter to the latest Hogwarts gossip, the idea of Harry becoming corporeal seemingly forgotten. As they talked, though, Harry couldn't quite shake his disappointment that Snape hadn't been able to touch him.

* * * * *

"Hi, Harry!"

Harry looked up from his eggs and toast. "'Morning, Hermione."

"Morning?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "It's after noon."

"Is it?" Harry said, looking down at his snitch-adorned pajamas. "Heh, I guess I slept later than I thought."

"Training been rough lately?" Hermione asked as she pulled out a chair and sat across from Harry at the kitchen table.

"No more so than usual."

"So that's a yes."

Laughing, Harry said, "I suspect Savage might be a little bit of a sadist, yeah. So what have you been up to lately? I haven't seen as much of you since you started your new job."

"Mostly a lot of research into laws regarding magical beings. It's interesting but time consuming. The legal jargon can be very dense."

Harry didn't think it sounded interesting at all, but he was smart enough not to say so. "You know you can come work here any time you like. It's been too quiet around the place."

"Thanks, Harry. I'll probably take you up on that. The library here would at least be a nice change of scenery."

"I think it might be a bad sign when moving from one library to another constitutes a nice change of scenery," Harry said before taking another bite of egg.

Hermione gave a him wry smile. "You're probably right. The three of us should get out and do something tomorrow. Maybe we could go walk around Diagon Alley. If it's cold we can stop at one of the cafes for hot chocolate."

"Sure, sounds fun." Harry wondered if it was bad that his first thought had been that an outing would provide him with something new to tell Snape. "I think I could definitely stand to get out too."

"Oh! I forgot to tell you -- I ran into Luna the other day."

"Yeah? How's she?"

"She sounded good," Hermione said. "She's working with her dad at _The Quibbler_ , but she promises it's temporary. She says she's thinking about using the money to pay for biology classes at Oxford."

"But that's a Muggle university."

"I know. It seems odd, especially since she's a pureblood, but, well, that's Luna for you."

Harry could only nod in agreement. "I wonder what gave her that idea."

"I think Dean's been encouraging her," Hermione said. "I get the feeling they're finally dating. She didn't say as much, but she did mention him an awful lot. And they've clearly been interested in each other for ages. Not that Ron ever noticed," she added, rolling her eyes. "He'd need to see a full-page ad in the _Prophet_ in order to pick up on anything like that."

"I guess that's something he couldn't learn from _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ ," Harry said, grinning.

"I can't believe he ever thought that book was a good idea." Hermione shook her head. "'Everything you need to know about girls' indeed."

"Well, like you said, Ron needs all the help he can get."

The conversation had traveled through several topics, and Harry was frankly amazed that it had gone on for so long without Hermione asking about his dreams. Perhaps she was trying to give him a reprieve from her usual mother hen routine. If so, Harry appreciated her efforts, but he found that he actually wanted to talk about the dreams and their implications. It looked like he'd just have to be the one to bring it up. "So," he started, "there've been some changes in my dreams."

"What sort of changes?" Hermione sounded apprehensive.

"Well, for the main thing, Snape can see me now. I'm not corporeal, but I'm visible."

"Hmm, interesting. How did he react to seeing you for the first time?"

"About like I expected. He nearly tried to hex me thinking I was my dad. I managed to convince him the resemblance was a coincidence."

"He believed that? Are you _sure_ this is Snape?"

"Positive," Harry said. "And Professor Dumbledore is definitely Professor Dumbledore."

"You've talked to him?"

Nodding, Harry said, "He knew I was in Hogwarts. I kind of had to go see him. I think he had a pretty good idea of where I was from, but he didn't question me about it. He mostly wanted to know why I was hanging around Severus."

"That makes sense. He probably wanted to make sure you weren't a Death Eater spy or something."

"I imagine so," Harry said. He understood Dumbledore's position, but it had been difficult talking with him and being treated like a dubious stranger rather than a trusted friend.

"What else has changed?"

"Nothing, except… Well, I've been wondering how my presence there will affect things. What happens if I change the past?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, frowning. "Professor Dumbledore warned us that fooling around with time was tricky and dangerous."

"Evidently not _too_ dangerous if he let a couple of thirteen-year-old students run loose with a Time-Turner!"

Hermione laughed. "You might be onto something there."

"Anyway, wouldn't just my being there be enough to affect the past? I mean, I know I've already caused things to happen differently. Maybe the changes have been small enough so far that they haven't altered any major events, but still…"

"But still, you've altered at least minor events and it doesn't appear to have changed our present," Hermione concluded for him.

"Exactly."

"Well… It's possible that nothing you do there can change things here."

"How's that?"

After a brief hesitation, Hermione said, "I wasn't going to mention this since I haven't had a chance to research it thoroughly yet. But I've recently done a little bit of reading on time travel theory and there are several ideas posed about that."

"Such as?"

"One theory says that any changes a person makes only affect the immediate future, and events will still unfold in such a way that the distant future is essentially unaltered. For example, if someone stopped Snape from going to the Hog's Head that night, another Death Eater would have overheard the prophecy and told Voldemort about it instead."

"Or if Snape never joined Voldemort, then some other Death Eater would have gone to Dumbledore for help and become his spy," Harry said.

"Yes, exactly."

"I don't know; that seems a little far-fetched."

"It does, but that's only one idea. Another is that, when a person alters the past, they actually create a parallel timeline. Any number of these alternate realities could exist."

Harry considered Hermione's words. If that was the case, it would mean that he couldn't change the present, either for better or for worse, but in the other timeline he could still save Snape, plus his parents and Sirius and everyone else. The notion was attractive, and a small spark of hope blossomed in Harry's chest.

"Anyway," Hermione said, interrupting Harry's musing, "that's all assuming you're actually entering the past."

"What else could possibly be happening?" Harry asked. "I'm certain it's really Snape."

Hermione frowned. "I have a few vague thoughts, but. Well. Let me do some research."

"You and your research," Harry teased. "Is there anything you think can't be solved with a trip to the library?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "The craving for eggs you've given me. I'm going to make some."

* * * * *

Later, in retrospect, Harry would think that it had been bound to happen sooner or later. When he arrived at Hogwarts, he didn’t immediately recognize the room in which he'd manifested. Snape was there, though, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. His head was dropped back, his eyes shut tight, his lips slightly parted. Concealed within his robes, his hand moved in a steady rhythm.

Realizing instantly what he was seeing, Harry almost gasped and revealed his presence. Almost. Instead he jumped behind a convenient stack of boxes, his heart beating fast.

Boxes? Harry glanced around. Yes, boxes, crates, and trunks filled much of the square room. Rusty cauldrons were stacked in one corner, and old brooms in need of repair were lined up in another. It was obviously a storage space, and one that wasn't visited often, judging by the spider webs that decorated the cauldrons and connected the crates. Apparently Snape went there when he needed a bit of privacy. Like now, for instance.

Since he hadn't been spotted yet, Harry could just slip away and leave Snape to his business. That was what he intended to do, in fact, but rather than retreating, he somehow found himself peering around the boxes for another look. Snape's chest rose and fell rapidly with his breathing and two pink patches had formed on his pale cheeks. The sight sent Harry's blood traveling south and he was tenting the fabric of his pajamas in seconds.

Snape spread his legs a bit wider and the motion inside his robes quickened. Without thinking, Harry allowed his hand to drop down and squeeze his erection through his pajamas. Soon Snape's breathing grew louder, and soft, wet noises were evidence that pre-come and sweat were aiding the slide of Snape's palm over his cock. Harry began stroking himself, attempting to match his pace with the sounds.

As Harry watched, he realized there was something simultaneously tantalizing and frustrating about not being able to see more. Simply seeing Snape's rapturous expression and knowing what he was doing was undeniably erotic, yet Harry couldn't help wondering: Did Snape grip himself tightly with his whole fist? Would his strokes end with a little twist of his wrist? What would he look like undressed? Picturing the possibilities, Harry swallowed a moan and squeezed himself harder.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Snape's flushed face. The fingers of his free hand clawed at the stone tiles of the floor. It was too fierce, too urgent to go on for much longer, and Harry kept his gaze glued to Snape, awaiting the inevitable ending, willing it to come.

Suddenly, Snape's hips bucked up, he bit his lip, and he made a small, telltale sound in the back of his throat. It was quite possibly the hottest thing Harry had ever seen and it was too much. This time he was powerless to suppress his tortured groan. Snape's eyes snapped open wide and met Harry's, his expression one of shock and horror. Then Harry's balls hitched up, his cock throbbed, and he awoke in his bed, spurting hard and soaking his pajamas.

* * * * *

Harry stayed up the next night thinking about what had happened and playing the scene over in his head. He freely admitted it was, at least in part, an attempt to avoid Snape. Not that he knew for certain he'd even visit Snape while dreaming that night, but he didn't want to take the chance. Stealth and Tracking would be rough in the morning, but he just didn't think he could face Snape without expiring of embarrassment yet.

Throughout the day, Harry had done his best to put the entire thing out of his mind and focus on his training. The minute he'd got home, however, he'd gone directly into a hot shower and wanked furiously to the image of Snape with his eyes squeezed shut and his hand jerking fast inside his robes. After that, Harry didn't even bother trying to deny that he was attracted to Snape. And considering Snape's general appearance, Harry couldn't reasonably convince himself that it was a solely physical attraction.

In the kitchen, on his third cup of tea, Harry tried to puzzle out exactly when he'd developed feelings for Snape that were more than friendly. Thinking back, he realized that the signs had been there for some time but he'd failed to recognize them. Snape was so different from Ginny, or Cho for that matter, or anyone else Harry had known that the infatuation had snuck up on him and caught him entirely off guard.

Not that it mattered in the slightest. Harry was just a tad too incorporeal to actually _do_ anything about it. Besides, Snape certainly didn't return the sentiment, especially since his feelings had long been reserved for Lily. The best thing to do, Harry decided, was absolutely nothing. He'd pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had transpired and not risk ruining the rapport he and Snape had developed. He foresaw rather a great deal of frustrated wanking in his near future, however.

It seemed Snape had similarly concluded that utter denial was the best course of action. When Harry saw him next they were both clearly determined to not mention or otherwise acknowledge the incident from two nights earlier. Their attempts to appear nonchalant while avoiding direct eye contact bordered on absurd, but Harry knew the awkwardness had to end eventually.

Indeed, a week or so later things had more or less returned to normal -- or what passed for normal given their situation, at any rate. Now that Harry had recognized his attraction to Snape, though, he couldn't stop _noticing_ things. Like the way Snape stood up a little straighter when he was proud of a new potion alteration he'd discovered. Or how he almost looked like a different person when something caused his thin lips to twitch up into a crooked, little smile. It was downright distracting, and Harry had to work to make sure Snape didn't catch him looking too intently.

It was evening at Hogwarts when Harry arrived almost two weeks after the event-which-must-not-be-named. Snape was pacing back and forth across the middle of the old DADA classroom, muttering to himself and looking quite agitated. Harry cleared his throat. "All right, Severus?"

Snape stopped and turned to face Harry. "Yes. No. I don't know," he said, then resumed his pacing.

"What happened?" Harry asked, growing concerned. He hadn't seen Snape this flustered since the day he'd lost Lily's friendship.

"I got called into the Headmaster's office this afternoon."

"What for? Did something happen? Did James and Sirius hex you? Did _you_ hex _them_?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Snape shook his head. "He just… I don't really know what he wanted."

"What happened when you went to his office?"

"He kept trying to give me tea and sweets. I finally ate the damned sherbet lemons just to get him to stop!"

It was fortunate that Snape was too involved in his pacing to notice that Harry was trying not to laugh. When he managed to get control of himself, Harry asked, "Okay, but what did he _say_?"

Waving his hand as he spoke, Snape answered, "He said he thought we should become better acquainted. Wanted to know how my classes were going. Said he'd heard I was excelling in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Recalling his talk with Dumbledore, Harry said, "It sounds like he knows you're smart and he's taking an interest in you. That's good, isn't it?"

"No." Snape stopped and glanced at Harry. "He asked if I'd thought about what I wanted to do after school."

"Ah," Harry said. Of course Snape, the paranoid git, would assume Dumbledore had been trying to find out if he intended to join Voldemort. Which was probably at least half true, actually. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing! Well. I think I said something about being interested in spell research. And I might have told him about one or two of my potions experiments."

"That doesn't quite sound like 'nothing,'" Harry said, trying to hide a smile again.

Snape stared at the floor and muttered something. Harry thought he made out the words "…drugs his sweets…"

"Well, what did he tell you after that?" Harry pressed.

"He said that a person with my abilities would have many options." Snape frowned. "He said I should let him know if there was anything he could do for me."

"I think he's right on both counts."

"Maybe," Snape mumbled noncommittally. With a huff, he turned and began walking towards the pile of mats.

Harry moved to join Snape, but only made it two paces before he tripped over an uneven stone tile, jamming his toe hard. "Ow, fuck!" He hopped in place twice, then froze. Looking up at Snape, he saw his own astonishment mirrored in Snape's expression.

"Did you just..?" Snape said.

"Yeah."

In three fast steps, Snape was in front of Harry. His hands shot out to grab Harry by the shoulders as Harry reached for Snape's arms. Harry let out an elated laugh when Snape felt solid and real beneath his fingers.

They clung to each other for a moment, grinning, before their eyes met. The smiles vanished from their faces instantly and they couldn't have leapt apart faster if an Acromantula had suddenly dropped down between them. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Snape blushing seven shades of scarlet, and he knew he must be equally colorful. "Erm. Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, I. You didn't," Snape stammered, then quickly regained his aplomb. "We should test this. Go try to pick something up."

"Like what? This room isn't exactly lavishly furnished."

Snape looked around. "My bag. Over there."

Harry went to the corner of the room where Snape had stowed his belongings and stooped to grab Snape's satchel. Instead of grasping it, Harry's fingers passed right through the worn fabric. " _Damn_ ," he and Snape said in unison.

"Well, it's not surprising," Snape remarked. "You became audible and then visible gradually. Likely you'll become increasingly substantial with time as well."

"Yeah, I reckon you're right," Harry said. It made him both excited and apprehensive, and he wasn't certain which reaction was more appropriate.

* * * * *

As Snape had predicted, Harry became corporeal with increasing frequency and for longer periods over his next few visits. His frustration grew with his substantiality. Previously his attraction to Snape had been something of a moot point since he hadn't had the ability to do anything about it. Now that was changing, but Harry still couldn't act for fear of how Snape was likely to respond.

Harry knew he should just put the entire thing out of his mind. Which meant he thought about it more than ever. In fact, he was having a difficult time staying focused on anything else during his waking hours. No matter what he was doing, Snape regularly popped into his mind unbidden. It was downright distracting.

"Hey, Harry. Uh. All right there?"

 _Point in case_ , Harry thought as he looked up from his glass of ale to find Neville standing beside the table. Harry hadn't noticed him approach. "Hey, Neville. Pull up a chair."

Taking the seat across from Harry, Neville said, "I saw you sitting over here by yourself… Ron said you took a pass on playing wizard darts with him and Dean. Something bothering you tonight?"

"Nah, I guess my mind's just on other things." Harry tried for a nonchalant shrug and smile. "Sorry to be such a wet blanket."

"Hermione's worried about you, you know."

"She told you that?"

"No," Neville said. "She told Ron that. And he told Luna. And Luna told me."

It wasn't good that so many of Harry's friends had noticed -- and apparently discussed -- his preoccupation. He felt like banging his head against the table, but settled for taking another swallow of his drink. "I'm fine, really," he said. "It's just…"

"Yeah?"

Perhaps Harry had consumed one too many pints, but the prospect of talking with someone about his problem was suddenly very appealing. There was no way he could bring it up with Hermione, since she'd almost certainly realize upon whom Harry was fixated and he wasn't at all prepared for that. But Neville knew nothing about Harry's dreams, and Harry could trust him to keep mum. "All right, hypothetically speaking. Say you were interested in someone. But you were pretty sure they didn't feel the same way about you. Would you do anything about it?"

"Me? Not likely!" Neville laughed. "I've always been terrible at that sort of thing. But I'm not you, Harry."

"I'm pretty crap at it too, in case you haven't noticed."

Shifting in his seat and looking a bit uncomfortable, Neville asked, "So what makes you think this person isn't interested in you?"

"They're… I think they have feelings for someone else."

"Oh. But they at least know you exist, right? I mean, you do talk to them?"

"Oh, sure. We're definitely friends." It struck Harry then how strange it was that he'd come to think of Snape as a friend. It was even more peculiar that he'd developed a romantic interest in Snape. Sighing, he added, "I should just be satisfied with that and not want more under the circumstances, I guess. I mean, in a way it's pretty amazing that we've been able to become friends at all."

Neville's gaze darted around the room and he seemed as though he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Harry, if it's… I just want you to know that I never would have gone out with Ginny if I'd thought… She told me you'd split up amicably, and that it was a mutual decision, and that you were both over it… And you encouraged me to ask her out…"

At first Harry was confused about the sudden turn their talk had taken, then it dawned on him what Neville was implying. "Oh my god, no! It's not… I don't still have feelings for Ginny! Not like that, anyway. We _are_ over it. Neville, I think you two are great together, I really do. You have so much more in common than Ginny and I ever did."

Visibly relieved, Neville said, "Oh, thank Merlin. For a minute I thought…"

"No." Harry smiled wryly. "I don't know why everyone's so worried about that. It's really bloody annoying, everybody walking on eggshells around me." It felt good to finally say it to someone.

"I suppose it's because everyone just assumed you'd end up together, back in school. The hero's supposed to defeat the bad guy and get the girl, right? You're flying in the face of thousands of years of tradition, you know."

Harry laughed, then said, "You're just as much a hero as I am. Especially with everything you did in that last year."

Neville blushed and looked down at the table. "Thanks, Harry." Harry got the impression that Neville wasn't just thanking him for the compliment.

"Any time, Neville."

"So, uh. About your problem," Neville said, returning to their earlier topic. "The only advice I have to offer is that you should keep your eyes open. Watch for your opportunity. And when it comes, be brave enough to take it."

"Thanks. I'll remember that," Harry said. "And, er, do me a favor? Don't tell Luna about me liking someone. So she doesn't tell Ron and he doesn't tell Hermione."

Grinning, Neville said, "No problem."

* * * * *

"…I'm as glad as the next person that Slytherin won the match. But defeating the Hufflepuff Quidditch team isn't precisely a feat of Merlin-like proportions," Snape was saying.

Harry nodded. He was trying to keep up with the thread of the conversation, but it was difficult to focus on Snape's words just then.

They were sitting together on a stack of mats in the old DADA classroom, their legs stretched out in front of them and their backs against the wall. It was winter now, and the castle tended to get drafty at that time of the year, but Harry was anything but cold. Snape was so close that Harry could feel the heat radiating off his body. Their hands were only inches apart; if Harry moved his just a bit he'd be touching Snape's fingers. If he shifted slightly their knees or their shoulders would brush. Harry didn't dare, but that didn't stop him from wondering whether Snape's skin would be as warm as he imagined, or how the texture of his well-worn robes would feel.

"Harry?"

"Oh, hell," Harry said, realizing he'd lost track of what Snape had been saying entirely. "Sorry, my mind just wandered off there for a minute. Guess I'm a little distracted today." He finished with an apologetic shrug.

Snape turned to face Harry as though he intended to speak to him. He just looked at Harry, though, with a peculiar expression that Harry couldn't quite read. It was a little like Hermione when she was about to tell Harry something he wouldn't want to hear, and a bit like Ron when he'd been about to play Keeper against the Slytherin Quidditch team. Determined but uncertain, and perhaps a little frantic. "What is it?" Harry asked.

Snape's eyes darted around the room, down to his lap, and back to Harry. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Harry was about to ask what on earth was wrong when Snape fell towards him, and suddenly Snape was… Snape was _kissing_ him!

It was rough and clumsy and awkward, but it was definitely a kiss. Snape's lips were colliding with his, and Harry could feel Snape's hair brushing his cheek. It ended as quickly as it began. Before Harry had a chance to absorb this state of affairs and react, Snape tore his mouth from Harry's and turned away. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn’t mean to… Sorry."

Gobsmacked, Harry stared at Snape with his jaw agape. Meanwhile, Snape had curled in on himself, clearly regretting his actions and looking like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Harry knew he really should _do_ something, but his mind couldn't seem to get a handle on the notion that Snape _liked_ him. _Snape_ liked _him_!

Something inside Harry clicked, and he remembered what Neville had told him. _Watch for your opportunity_ , he'd said. _And when it comes, be brave enough to take it._ Harry hadn't given it much thought at the time, but right now it was the best advice anyone had ever offered him. This was his chance and he couldn't blow it.

His hand shaking, Harry reached out and touched his fingertips to Snape's chin. "Severus." When that didn't earn him a response, he tried to gently turn Snape's face towards him. "Severus, look at me."

Finally Snape turned his head. This time the look he gave Harry was hard and defiant. Not knowing what to say, Harry chose to simply act instead. He leaned forward and returned Snape's kiss, a mere brush of lips that elicited a gasp from Snape. Sliding his hand around to the back of Snape's neck, Harry pulled him closer.

Although Harry hardly had a great deal of experience in these matters, it seemed pretty clear that he had more than Snape, and it was up to him to take the lead. Strangely, something about that gave Harry the confidence he needed to move in again, pressing more firmly this time. He ran the tip of his tongue over Snape's bottom lip, and Snape gave a tiny groan and opened his mouth to Harry. From there, Harry snaked his other arm around Snape and claimed his mouth in earnest.

Snape clutched Harry's robes and tangled his fingers in Harry's hair and gave every bit as good as he got. And, _oh_ , Snape was a fast learner. His tongue slid over Harry's, hot and wet, sending currents tingling down Harry's spine. He mirrored Harry's moves and invented a few of his own, challenging Harry to keep up.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled back at last. Giving a breathless little laugh, he said, "Wow. Well. I guess you have my full attention now."

With an amused snort, Snape said, "Hmm. Perhaps I should keep that method in mind for later reference." His tone was dry but the look he gave Harry was expectant.

Harry heard the underlying question in Snape's words, and he was determined to give as encouraging an answer as possible. "I think you should. I'm easily distracted, you know." He nodded emphatically.

"Exasperatingly so. If I'd known it would work so well, I might have tried it sooner."

"You mean we could have been doing this earlier? Damn!" Harry laughed again.

Surprise flashed across Snape's face before he could school his features. "Well, you haven't been corporeal all that long, you know."

"True." The implications of Snape's statement caught up to Harry then. "Wait, exactly how long have you been thinking about doing… that?"

Snape's gaze flashed to the side. "I dunno," he said. "A little while, I suppose."

Although he was being evasive, Snape had all but admitted he'd liked Harry before he'd manifested physically. His look suggested that it might have even started before Harry had become visible. That could explain a thing or two, Harry realized in retrospect. It seemed odd to be interested in a person one had never seen, but then again, Harry recalled how infatuated he'd become with the Half-Blood Prince without even knowing who he was. With a jolt, he realized he was now looking at the Half-Blood Prince himself; had just been kissing him in fact, and still had his hand on his knee. It was funny the way things worked out sometimes.

"Good," Harry said, "'cause I have too. C'mere." He pulled Snape to him again and kissed him soundly.

* * * * *

Once Harry and Snape realized their attraction was mutual, they quickly advanced from awkward kisses to proper snogging. From there they both seemed content to explore things relatively slowly, since Harry's only prior experience had been with Ginny, and Snape likely had no experience to speak of at all. The stack of mats in the old DADA classroom was definitely beginning to come in handy, though.

This time Snape had tackled Harry nearly the instant he'd arrived, maneuvering him towards the mats and kissing him thoroughly. They'd somehow ended up in their current position, practically in each other's laps with their lips still locked. When they broke apart, Harry said, "Gee, you must have _really_ wanted my attention today."

Smirking, Snape glanced down. "It would seem that I have it."

"Belt up, you!" Harry said, laughing. He gave Snape a solid shove that toppled him onto his back, then pounced on top of him to prevent him from getting up.

However, Snape didn't try to get up. Rather, he wrapped an arm around Harry's neck and pulled him down for another heated kiss. _God_ , Snape had become entirely too good at this, Harry thought as Snape nipped at his bottom lip and coaxed a tiny whimper from him.

Going a bit boneless, Harry settled in on top of Snape and immediately discovered that he wasn't the only one at attention. Their erections aligned and pressed together, and Harry gave a startled gasp. They'd never quite got this far with things before, but that felt bloody brilliant!

Harry gave an experimental roll of his hips, and this time it was Snape who gasped. "All right?" Harry asked.

"Do that again!"

Another time, Harry might have refused to comply with Snape's demand just to rile him a bit. Another time, but not now. He rocked against Snape again, and once more. Snape's hips jerked up and his breath left him in a soft grunt.

That was it for Harry. He needed to _move_ , and nothing short of a _Petrificus_ spell was going to stop him. He rutted against Snape, hard and fast, and Snape bucked up to meet him. Trapped in his trousers, Harry's cock throbbed. It was rough and almost painful and it was so, so good.

Yanking his glasses off and flinging them to the side, Harry buried his face in Snape's neck. He could hear Snape's harsh breathing next to his ear, feel Snape's hands clutching him tightly. All he could feel, hear, see, smell was Snape. Harry bit down on Snape's shoulder, the cloth of Snape's robes filling his mouth to stifle a moan.

Snape went very still beneath him. "H-Harry," he said as he began to tug on Harry's clothes. Harry got the message too late. All he could do was keep moving while Snape went rigid and shuddered. The choked noise Snape tried to hold back was nearly enough to send Harry right over the edge as well.

Once Snape went slack, Harry allowed himself to be rolled off Snape and to the side. Blushing deep scarlet, Snape tried to conceal the wet spot on his robes and refused to meet Harry's eyes. "Sorry," he said miserably.

" _Sorry_?" Harry echoed. The feral, guttural sound he made then was half growl and half whine, and conveyed _good more want need_ far better than mere words ever could. His hand dropped to his aching prick and he palmed himself through his clothing.

Hearing, seeing this, Snape's eyes went dark and he struck. He swatted Harry's hand aside and replaced it with his own as he captured Harry's mouth again. His fingers outlined the bulge in Harry's trousers and worked it through the fabric. Harry arched up against Snape's hand and cried out. The assault was too much to bear. He came with his blood rushing in his ears and ended in a state as sticky as Snape's.

Harry collapsed back onto the mat. "Well. That was different."

"Mmm," was Snape's response.

"That was _brilliant_ ," Harry amended.

Snape grinned.

* * * * *

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening? You seem a little distracted," Hermione said, her tone that precise mix of annoyance and concern that only she could manage.

"I seem to be hearing that a lot recently," Harry said, privately amused. He was rather glad Hermione didn't resort to Snape's method of getting his attention. "Sorry," he added.

"Really, Harry, your mind's been somewhere else lately. What's going on? Is it Snape?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, it's… There's something I ought to tell you." He'd been wanting to talk to Hermione about the latest developments with Snape, but he hadn't been sure how to broach the topic. This seemed as good an opportunity as any.

"All right. What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it down. The action revealed a vivid, purple bruise in the hollow above his collarbone. A love bite was worth a thousand words, or at least Harry hoped it was, since he had no idea how to explain everything that had happened.

Setting her teacup down, Hermione stared at the mark. "You've been seeing someone? But when? You haven't been going out at night as far as I can tell. I haven't heard any gossip, either, and the _Prophet_ would be all over it if you were seen in public with a date." Harry could practically see the gears turning in her head and everything clicking into place as Hermione's expression shifted from confusion to comprehension. "Oh," she breathed. "Well, I guess this means you're really over Ginny."

Of all the things Hermione might have said, that was one that Harry would never have anticipated. He couldn't help but laugh. "I've been telling you that for ages!"

"I know, but…" Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, I should have believed you. It's just that, well, sometimes you won't tell us when something is wrong, and you'd wanted to be with Ginny since sixth year…"

She had a point, Harry supposed. "All right, fair enough. But this time there was honestly nothing to tell."

After a brief silence, Hermione said, "So. Snape?"

"Yeah."

"And obviously, you're corporeal there now. You're really going someplace."

"I've been going someplace for months."

"Well, before there were still other possibilities, but this…" Hermione trailed off and waved her hand in the general direction of Harry's neck.

Although he'd never truly believed that there was any other explanation, Harry didn't argue the point.

"But Harry," Hermione went on, "Snape's not even in our time. You can't be serious about him."

"Why not?" Harry asked, a bit more peevishly than he intended. "It seems to me I could be more serious about him than anyone here. I can go to training and go out with friends, and still spend hours at a time with Severus. How much do you and Ron really get to see each other with your busy schedules?"

"That's not the point. No matter how much time you spend with him while you're asleep, he can't ever fully be a part of _your_ life. He can't be here to share your life with you. That's not a real relationship."

Unable to refute Hermione's words, Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know, you're right."

"What are you right about?" Ron ambled into the kitchen, scratching his chest through his jumper.

Harry shot Hermione a pleading look.

"Why, everything, of course," Hermione said. "This is me we're talking about, after all."

"Ha! I'll hold that line against you the next time you're actually wrong about something, you know," Ron said, opening a cabinet and beginning to rummage through it.

"It'll never happen," Harry said. He was immensely relieved that Hermione had deflected Ron's question, and also that Ron's arrival had likely spared Harry a lecture.

"Probably not," Ron grumbled. "Hey, are there any chocolate biscuits around here? Oh, never mind. Here they are in the back."

Hermione shot Harry an amused glance. Harry shrugged and made a mental note to find a better hiding place.

Already munching a biscuit, Ron joined them at the table. "Is there any more tea?" Harry suppressed a laugh and levitated another teacup over. With Ron present, the mood lightened and the conversation turned to more cheerful matters.

* * * * *

The following day once more found Harry in the old DADA classroom. He leaned against Snape while he told Snape about his most recent talk with Hermione. "And the first words out of her mouth," he said, "were, 'Oh. I guess this means you're really over Ginny.' Can you believe that? I nearly laughed my head off. It only took a _year_ and a bite mark on my neck to convince her!"

"You really told your friends about me?" Snape asked. "I mean, that we're…"

"Well, I told Hermione. She's usually pretty open-minded about things. I haven't quite figured out what to say to Ron yet, but--"

Harry was interrupted by a knock on the classroom door. He and Snape looked at each other. "Dumbledore?" Harry whispered.

The knocking was replaced by vigorous pounding. "C'mon Snape! I know you're in there. Open up!"

Snape's eyes widened, and Harry imagined his expression must have matched. The voice coming from the other side of the door was James'. Harry scrambled to duck behind the stack of mats, wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak. Snape drew his wand and cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on Harry, then, wand still at the ready, he moved cautiously towards the door.

"Damn it, let me in," James shouted, pounding once more. "No one else is with me and I just want to talk."

From his position behind the mats, Harry could hear the door crack open and Snape say, "What the devil do you want, Potter?"

"To talk, like I said. Look, no tricks, all right? I just want to ask you something."

"How did you even know I was here?"

"It doesn't matter," James said, sounding impatient.

"The hell it doesn't!"

James huffed a sigh. "I've known about your little hiding place here for some time, Snape. I haven't given you any aggro, have I?"

"Not until now. Got bored and couldn't resist harassing me for the entertainment value, I suppose?"

"You wish. You're not that interesting, Snape."

"Good, then you won't be bothered when I tell you to go the hell away." Harry heard a creak followed by a dull thud. He guessed that Snape had tried to shut the door in James' face, and James had blocked it with his foot or his shoulder. Crouching behind the mats, Harry resisted the urge to look.

"Oh no you don't," James said. "I came here to ask you a question, and I'm not leaving without an answer."

"No, I don't know how to cure Romanian genital rash. You'll have to ask Madam Pomfrey," Snape said. Harry had to bite the back of his hand to keep from laughing.

"What?! No, you wanker! I want to know who this Harry Potter person is you've been hanging around with!"

Suddenly, Harry no longer felt like laughing. His heart pounded as he tried to figure out how James could have possibly found out about his presence in the castle.

"I've no idea what you're on about," Snape said, but his tone had lost a tiny bit of its bite.

"Merlin's arse you don't," James said. "I bloody well know he's not a student here. I want to know who he is and how he's getting into the school."

 _The Map!_ Harry wanted to hex himself for not having thought of it before. The Marauder's Map would have begun showing Harry's location once he'd manifested physically if not before.

"You're mad," Snape said. "You should have Madam Pomfrey check your head after she looks at your tackle."

"I'm not mad. He's in there with you now. Tell me who he is, Snape."

There was a pause, followed by the sound of the door being flung open and slamming against the stone wall behind it. "See for yourself. There's no one here, Potter!" Another pause. "Now go away. Leave me alone. And don’t bother coming back."

"Fine," James spat. "Fine. I'll figure it out for myself." The door slammed shut.

For the first time since he'd become visible, Harry wished he could disappear again. He couldn't, however, so he stood as the Disillusionment Charm dissolved around him.

Snape spun to face Harry, his face livid. "Potter?" he ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He couldn't think of anything adequate to say.

" _Potter_?!" Snape repeated.

"I, uh."

"Is it true?"

"Let me ex--"

"Is. It. _True_?!"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. There was nothing else he could say.

"You..! I..! I _trusted_ you!" Snape shrieked, spit flying from his lips. He'd gone frighteningly pale and was visibly shaking.

"Severus," Harry pleaded.

"Get out. Get out! Get out, get out, I don't want to see you ever again!" Wand slashing violently, Snape punctuated his words with hexes. Only Harry's Auror training allowed him to dodge out of the way. "Go! GO!"

There was nothing else for Harry to do. He ran out of the room, ducking under a final hex as he went. The door slammed shut behind him. Harry walked down the corridor until he was some distance away, then slumped to the floor. There he sat, back to the cold stone wall, and waited to wake up.

* * * * *

Two days passed without Harry seeing Snape. Two torturous days during which Snape's last words played over and over again in Harry's mind, and he struggled to think of something, _anything_ he could say to make things better again. He was so preoccupied in training on Friday that he was caught by Stunners three times, but Saturday was far worse because Harry didn't have anything to distract him at all.

By Sunday Harry was getting desperate, so he Flooed over to spend the afternoon with Ron. He quickly realized it had probably been a bad idea. As much as he wanted the company, Harry had never been good at pretending to be cheerful. It didn't take long at all for Ron to detect Harry's morose mood and ask, "All right, mate. What's got your knickers in a twist, eh?"

"It's that obvious, is it?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"Obvious as a fart in a lift," Ron said, then took a pull from his beer bottle.

"Charming. That's pretty obvious." Harry sighed. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you…" He still had no idea how to go about explaining to Ron about the developments with Snape, but damn it, he needed to talk to _someone_.

"All right. What is it?"

"Well, you know that I've been dreaming about Snape for a long time now, right?" Harry began. "Younger Snape, that is. And I guess you probably know that Hermione and I think the dreams are more than just dreams?"

"I've heard a bit. Hermione's been researching, trying to come up with an explanation."

"Yeah. Well, Severus and I have seen quite a lot of each other by now, you know. And he's really… he's really pretty all right."

"You actually think you're going into the past? And that it's really Snape?"

"Yeah, I do."

Ron nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "We've seen a lot of strange stuff, right? I didn't believe you about it all sometimes before, and I was always wrong. So I believe you."

"Thanks, Ron."

"No problem," Ron said, lifting his bottle in salute.

"So anyway," Harry said, "I've been seeing Snape."

"Yeah, we've already established this fact." Ron raised the bottle to his lips once more.

"No, I mean I've been _seeing_ Snape."

Harry couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried. Ron's eyes bulged as he spewed a shower of beer all over everything within a meter of himself. "Bloody hell, Harry," Ron managed to choke out. "You could kill a person that way!"

Ducking his head in an attempt to hide a smirk, Harry said, "Sorry."

"Very funny," Ron said, mopping beer from his robes. After a moment he gave up, set his bottle aside, and picked up his wand to cast _Tergeo _on himself. Once satisfied, he returned his attention to Harry. "Snape? Really? _Seriously_? You're not having me on, are you?"__

"Yes, yes, yes, and no."

"Well. Blimey. I reckon this means you really are over Gin."

Bursting into laughter, Harry nearly fell out of his chair.

"What?" Ron asked. Still laughing, Harry could only shake his head. " _What_?"

"Oh, Ron," Harry gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, "that's exactly what Hermione said when she found out."

"Wait, you already told Hermione? When?"

"Just a few days ago." Harry shrugged.

"And no one bothered to tell me?"

"I've wanted to, but I didn't know how you'd react. You've never exactly been fond of Snape, have you?"

"Fair point," Ron conceded. "He's pretty much the last person I'd have chosen for you. Well, no, maybe not the last. That would have to be Malfoy. Or Goyle," he concluded with a shudder.

"Ugh. Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I guess what I'm saying is that he's not the worst person in the world. He might not be the one I'd have picked for you, but I don't _get_ to pick for you, do I? You have to pick for you. Anyway, I don't really even know him. If you like him, though, he must be all right."

Vastly relieved that Ron hadn't reacted the way he feared he might, Harry said, "I appreciate that, really."

"I'm not saying I like the idea, mind you. But I can deal with it."

"You might not have to," Harry said. "He's right narked at me now."

"Oh? What happened?"

"He found out my last name."

"Oh, bugger," Ron said, catching on right away.

"And not from me. From my _dad_. It was bad, Ron. He said he never wanted to see me again. Rather loudly, in fact."

"You think he meant it?"

"I dunno." Harry sighed. "I wish I knew what to do."

"He's a bloke, Harry. Just suck him off or something and he'll forgive you right quick."

Harry's cheeks burned at Ron's crass statement. "We, er, haven't exactly made it that far with things yet, so--"

"Gah, never mind!" Ron shook his head vigorously. "I don't want any details!"

Harry snickered, then switched to giving his beer a gloomy stare.

"All right, look," Ron said. "Why didn't you tell him who you were from the beginning?"

"I could justify it by saying I thought it might be dangerous to tell him too much about the future, but honestly I was mostly just afraid he'd stop talking to me if he knew."

"So tell him that. Apologize and be honest with him. It's all you can really do." Ron shrugged, then added, "If he doesn't forgive you, he's an idiot."

"Heh. Thanks." Harry rolled his bottle between his palms.

"Besides, he has to forgive you."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, raising his beer to drink.

"'Cause you need him. You already jilted my sister, and Hermione's laid claim to me, so you're out of other options. Sorry, mate."

It was Harry's turn to choke on his drink while Ron laughed uproariously. "Oh, Harry!" Ron said, holding his sides. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

"Ha bloody ha," Harry said, swiping at a wet spot on his trousers. "Do that again and I'll tell you all about the time Severus and I were snogging and--"

"Ack, no details, no details!" Ron stuffed his fingers in his ears. "Lalalala, is someone talking? Nope, don't hear a thing!"

Harry shook his head, grinned, and enjoyed having the last laugh.

* * * * *

After another two days, Harry finally made it back to Snape. He appeared in the DADA classroom where Snape sat on the pile of mats, back to the wall and knees tucked up under his chin. Snape stared down at the mat where he toyed idly with a loose thread. "Hi," Harry said softly.

"Hi," Snape replied without looking up.

Harry took a few tentative steps towards Snape. "Can we talk?"

"We probably should."

Summoning his courage, Harry moved the rest of the way to the mats, climbed atop the stack, and settled next to Snape. "I'm sorry," he said.

Snape didn't look up, didn't speak. Harry offered, "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know if I _should_ tell you. And I was afraid that if you knew, you'd stop talking to me. I hate keeping things from you, for what it's worth." He desperately wanted to reach over and touch Snape, but he didn't dare.

"Did Voldemort really kill your parents?" Snape asked.

Harry heard the real meaning in Snape's question. "Yeah."

There was a small nod from Snape, then nothing more. Harry didn't disturb the silence, allowing Snape to process everything in his own time. He was grateful that Snape wasn't trying to hex him inside out, but in some ways the quiet was more difficult to bear.

At last Snape said, "So what do you _do_ in your own time? You've never told me."

Relief and hope began to well up in Harry's chest. "I, uh. I'm in my second year of Auror training."

"Appropriate, I suppose. Do you like it?"

"I enjoy the training. It's challenging and I'm learning a lot. But… I don't think I really want to be an Auror," Harry confessed.

"Why not?"

"It's a long story, but let's just say I pretty much spent my entire seven years of school fighting dark wizards. I think I'm more than a little done with it."

"Will I ever get to hear this long story?" Snape asked, his tone a touch bitter.

"Yes," Harry said. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. One thing at a time. I promise."

Snape fell silent again. This time Harry reached out, wrapped his arm around Snape's shoulders, and pulled Snape against him. There was no resistance. Harry buried his nose in Snape's hair, Snape put his hand on Harry's chest, and the two sat that way for a long while.

* * * * *

It seemed that Snape had accepted the truth about Harry, but he clearly wasn't prepared to trust him quite as readily as before. His demeanor was more stiff and reserved that it had been in months, and he appeared to be suspicious of Harry's words and motives. Harry was perfectly willing to work a bit to restore Snape's faith in him, though. He tried to be more candid with Snape about his experiences during his school years and behave as though nothing had changed, feeling confident that Snape wouldn't be able to keep up the cold and distant act for long. Well, fairly confident. He knew firsthand that Snape was more than capable of holding a grudge.

Several meetings went by, and Snape was excruciatingly slow to warm up to Harry again. Harry was frustrated to say the least, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. Being patient was no easy task for a Gryffindor, but Snape didn't respond well to pushing, so there wasn't much else Harry could do. He tried not to dwell on things when awake in his own time, but wasn't particularly successful.

At least Snape hadn't stopped waiting for him in the DADA classroom, Harry thought when he appeared there once more. He immediately spotted Snape sitting on the edge of the stack of mats, chin resting on his palm and appearing to be lost in thought. "What's on your mind?" Harry asked.

Snape's head jerked up and he frowned. "Nothing." He hesitated, then said, "Dumbledore wanted to see me again today."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said, moving to sit down beside Snape. "What did he say this time?"

"He offered me a potions apprenticeship for after I leave school. That is, he said he'd recommend me for it, and implied that his recommendation was as good as a guarantee that I'd have the position."

"That's fantastic!" Harry said. "What did you tell him?"

"That I'd think about it." Snape's frown deepened. "It _would_ be a good opportunity. I'd be studying under Owen Barbary. He's good. Really good. An apprenticeship with him would carry some prestige."

"Severus! That's brilliant!" Caught up in his excitement, Harry threw his arms around Snape and swooped in for a kiss. Snape stiffened and turned his head away. Feeling his heart sink, Harry slowly released Snape and backed away. "I was just… I didn't mean to do that," he said, unable to keep the dejection out of his voice.

Snape turned to gaze at Harry, his expression searching. Harry refused to look away or hide from Snape's scrutiny. Apparently Snape found whatever it was he was looking for. Without warning he lunged forward and crushed his lips to Harry's.

Relief, joy, desire washed through Harry as he returned the kiss enthusiastically. Hands grasped at robes and hair. Teeth and tongues collided. Snape kissed him with such intensity that Harry felt as though he were drowning in it. Three weeks' worth of aloofness and uncertainty rose to the surface and boiled over.

They tumbled sideways onto the mats, rolling and scrambling to get closer to each other. Harry landed on top of Snape with a grunt. Before Harry could gain his bearings, Snape pulled his head down and began plundering his mouth again. Fervent and demanding, he wrenched groans from Harry and swallowed them down.

Grinding their hips together, they quickly fell into a familiar rhythm. It felt fantastic as it always did, but this time Harry needed something different, something more. He pulled away reluctantly and sat back on his knees, straddling Snape's thighs. Looking down at Snape as he laid there, chest heaving, lips swollen, hair tangled, Harry knew what he wanted. He reached for the fastenings of Snape's robes and began tugging them open.

Snape's eyes widened and his hands shot up to hold Harry's at bay. He swallowed, then said, "You first."

With a nod, Harry slid off the mats and began undressing. He did his best not to trip over his own feet while pulling off his shoes and socks, but he was more concerned with speed than grace. Stripping off layers and flinging them aside, he was soon standing naked amongst a jumble of discarded fabric.

Skin prickling and cock bobbing in the air, Harry returned to Snape. Seemingly determined to hold up his end of the bargain, Snape reached to unbutton his robes, but his hands trembled. "Let me," Harry said, and gently pushed Snape's fingers aside and replaced them with his own.

Harry undid Snape's buttons and ties and clasps one by one until Snape lay fully exposed before him. Only then did he allow his gaze to travel slowly down Snape's wiry frame for the first time. Snape appeared much as Harry had imagined he would: pale and bony, all long planes and sharp angles, too thin, exceedingly plain, and absolutely perfect.

Desperately wanting to touch, to feel, Harry laid his palms flat against Snape's stomach. Snape gave a little gasp and twitched under Harry's hands, and that was the end of Harry's restraint. He fell on Snape, licking, kissing, sucking, biting anything in his path -- a smooth expanse of throat, the graceful curve of a collar bone, a pebbled nipple, a prominent hip bone. Fingers clawing at the mat, Snape cursed and writhed beneath him.

Then Snape's cock, hard and leaking a shiny pool of pre-come, was right in front of Harry, and Harry wasn't about to stop now. He ran his tongue in a long swipe from base to tip, and the sound that came from Snape then was a surprised whimper-whine-groan. Harry liked that reaction, so he did it again. And again. Experimentally, he took the head between his lips and sucked, and _oh my_ , Snape's response to _that_ was even better!

Harry took Snape deeper into his mouth. Bobbed down and back up. Ended with a swirl of his tongue around the tip. Repeating the procedure, he found a beat and moved with it, his heart pounding in time. "S-Stop!" Snape said after only a few moments, tugging urgently at Harry's hair. "Come here!"

Releasing Snape, Harry slid up his body, and the fiery heat of Snape's flesh against his stole the air from Harry's lungs. Before Harry could catch his breath, Snape rolled them onto their sides, shoved one hand down between them, and seized Harry's cock. The feel of Snape's slender fingers stroking him was new and foreign and _god, so fucking good_.

Harry's hips rocked forward automatically and he began thrusting into Snape's grip. He was quickly overwhelmed by the combined sensations of Snape's hand working him, and Snape's skin burning him, and Snape's hardness pressing into him as Snape frotted against his thigh. Heat welled up low in Harry's belly and there was no holding back. All at once he found his breath again, and he let it out in a hoarse cry as he spurted all over Snape and himself and the mat below.

Still shaking with the end of his climax, Harry hooked his leg around Snape and rolled, hauling Snape on top of him. He slipped his hands down, took hold of Snape's arse, and pulled Snape against him hard. A desperate sound escaped Snape, and he began rocking against Harry is short, rapid jerks. Snape's cock was like velvet-wrapped steel sliding against Harry's skin as Snape made short, staccato noises in Harry's ear. "Yes, yes, yes, come on…" Harry chanted, knowing Snape was close. As if on command, Snape choked out a sob and shuddered, and Harry could feel the wet heat of Snape's spend filling the space between them in thick pulses.

Breathing heavily, Snape tried to push himself off Harry, but Harry held him fast. They were sticky, sweaty, and hot, but Harry didn't care. He wanted to feel Snape, alive and real, against him for just a little longer. Snape collapsed on top of him without argument. Harry thought perhaps he should say something, but no words seemed appropriate, so he simply ran his fingers through the strands of Snape's hair and remained silent.

* * * * *

Harry awoke to Hermione's voice calling him from elsewhere in the house. She sounded a little frantic, in fact, so he supposed he should go find out what the trouble was. He rolled out of bed and shambled into the hallway.

"Hermione?" Harry called out.

"Harry?" came the response. A few seconds later, Hermione came around the corner and into view. "Oh, there you are! Where were you?"

"I was sleeping," Harry said, puzzled. "What time is it, anyway?"

Hermione's brows knitted together. "Did you fall asleep in the library or something?" she asked, ignoring Harry's question.

"No, I was in bed."

"Just now? No, you weren't."

"Yeah, I was." Harry was fairly certain he was looking at Hermione as though a flock of Fwoopers had flown out of her ears.

"Harry, when you're awake, would you mind coming down into the kitchen? I want to talk to you about something."

Normally those words coming from Hermione would make Harry want to groan, roll his eyes, run away, or any combination thereof. Hermione seemed so distressed this time, however, that Harry grew genuinely concerned. "Sure, I'll be right down."

Ten minutes later, Harry walked into the kitchen. Hermione was seated at the table and staring into a cup of tea in a way that made Harry think she wasn't actually seeing it at all. Wordlessly, Harry pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

Hermione looked up. "Harry, are you… Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just that you've been really distant lately."

"Have I?"

"We haven't been seeing as much of you lately. You haven't come by our place in over two weeks, and you skipped the get-together at the Three Broomsticks this past weekend."

"So I've been a little tired," Harry said, shrugging. "Training's rough, you know that." He wasn't sure where Hermione was going with this, but he suspected he wouldn't like the destination.

"Well, about that," Hermione said. "Ron says you've been getting by with the bare minimum in Auror training."

"What does he know?" Harry said, annoyed at the accusation. "He's the one who got hit with a Hurling Hex three times yesterday!"

"Oh, Harry. It's just that you haven't been here at all for a while now."

"Where _else_ would I be?"

Hermione fixed Harry with a pointed look. His desire to groan, roll his eyes, and flee belatedly surfaced. "What are you trying to say, Hermione?"

"I think your dreams -- or the time you're spending somewhere else, rather -- are interfering with your life here. Your _real_ life."

"My dreams are, and always have been, a part of my 'real life.' You should know that better than anyone," Harry said, perhaps a bit more sharply than he intended.

"Yes, and they've always been harbingers of something horrible, haven't they?" Hermione countered.

"You said it yourself, these aren't actually dreams. And there's nothing horrible in them -- only Snape. He's so close to giving up Voldemort and choosing another path! He needs me, Hermione."

" _We_ need you. This is where you belong."

A dozen arguments flashed through Harry's mind, but he couldn't think of a way to make Hermione understand any of them. He finally settled for, "It's not like I can control whether or not I go there, anyway."

Instead of speaking, Hermione reached into her pocket. She pulled out a blue glass bottle and set it on the table between them.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Dreamless Sleep," Hermione said.

"And how long do you reckon I'd have to use it? You know what the long-term effects of Dreamless Sleep are like. I couldn't keep taking it forever."

"When I was looking for you a little while ago, I checked in your bedroom," Hermione said. "You weren't there."

"Of course I was. Where else could I have been?"

Again Hermione only looked at Harry.

"That's not possible," Harry said, feeling cold. "You had to have just missed me wrapped up in the blankets or something."

"None of this should be possible, but somehow it _is_. You weren't in your bed." When Harry could find nothing to say, Hermione went on, "Harry, just… Will you take the potion? At least until we figure something else out?"

"I…" Harry stared at the bottle. "Yeah, okay."

* * * * *

When Harry appeared in the DADA classroom for the final time, Snape was waiting for him as always. Blissfully unaware that anything was amiss, Snape slid his arms around Harry in greeting. Harry's resolve wavered, and he was tempted to return Snape's embrace and forget all about the damned bottle on his bedside table. Instead he stiffened and pulled away.

Stepping back, Snape asked, "What is it?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Snape repeated, this time with more trepidation in his tone.

Stifling a sigh, Harry walked over to the row of chairs and beckoned for Snape to follow. Once they were seated, facing each other, Harry said, "Hermione came to wake me up this morning and couldn't find me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was asleep but I wasn't in my bed."

Eyeing Harry suspiciously, Snape asked, "Has someone dosed you with a Babbling Beverage?"

Harry knew he wasn't making any sense. Taking a deep breath, he got to the point. "I've started disappearing in my own time when I show up here."

"Oh." A few seconds passed as Snape absorbed this. "How is that even possible?"

"How is any of this possible?" Harry countered, shrugging.

"Good point."

"Severus. I'm. I'm going to start using Dreamless Sleep." Somehow saying it out loud made it that much more real, and Harry's gut wrenched.

" _What_?!"

"I have to stop coming here."

"No! You don't have to do that! I'll start researching. We'll figure out why it's happening and make sure you don't get stuck someplace or disappear from either time."

"And what do I do in the meantime?" Harry asked.

Snape opened and closed his mouth, apparently trying to come up with an answer. He couldn't seem to find one.

"Anyway, it's not just that," Harry went on. "I've been so consumed by what's happening in your time that I haven't been paying any attention to my own. I'm barely making it through training and I'm practically ignoring my friends. Hermione's right; even when I've been there, I haven't _been_ there."

"You just need to focus, that's all!" Snape was growing more distraught by the moment.

"I'm sorry. I really, really am. But I've made up my mind."

"I thought we. I thought I meant something to you!"

"You do, Severus!"

"Then you can't just leave!"

Snape's words and his openly pleading expression were like daggers to Harry's chest. Harry had to summon every last bit of his will to simply say, "I have to."

Harry watched as Snape's face slowly shifted into a cool mask. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "I see," Snape said, standing and backing away from Harry. "Gryffindor courage and valor. Right."

"Severus…"

"I should have known. Nothing good ever comes from associating with a Potter." With that final blow thrown, Snape turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Only then did Harry allow himself to succumb to the prickling behind his eyes.

* * * * *

Once he ended things with Snape, Harry threw himself back into his training and was excelling again within days. When he wasn't at the Ministry, he made a point to see his friends more than he had in a long while, and to smile, laugh, and joke along with them. Hermione seemed satisfied, giving him happy smiles and encouraging squeezes of the arm. Only Ron seemed to suspect that anything was wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry often caught Ron looking at him with a thoughtful, concerned expression. Auror training had apparently done its job in making Ron more perceptive, because his instincts were spot on this time. Something was most definitely not right.

No matter how hard Harry tried to participate in his own timeline, he no longer felt like he was a part of it. It seemed as though he were walking through a dream where nothing was substantial or real. Frequently he was overwhelmed with the sense of viewing his own life from the outside. Nonetheless, he took the Dreamless Sleep and told himself things would be fine once he readjusted. If part of his nightly ritual involved staring at the blue bottle for minutes at a time before he could bring himself to swallow a dose, well, that too would pass.

Needing to think, Harry wandered though Muggle London, away from any place his friends would easily find him. Despite his reassurances to himself, a month had gone by now and things hadn't improved. He still floated through a vague unreality daily, and missed and wondered about Snape hourly. Stopping halfway across a narrow pedestrian bridge, Harry gazed down into the water below. It seemed gray and ephemeral, like everything else. Without the past at night to complement the future during the day, Harry was only living half a life.

Coming to this conclusion, Harry reached into his robes, withdrew a familiar bottle, and unstoppered it. Then he poured the rest of the Dreamless Sleep into the river and hurled the blue glass in after it.

 

Harry returned to the past that very night. He didn't materialize in the DADA classroom, but that was hardly surprising. Snape would have stopped waiting for him there weeks ago. Instead, he was in one of Hogwarts' many corridors, this one narrow and nondescript. The only person in sight, Snape hurried along the hallway, his ink-stained satchel slung over his shoulder. Harry was just about to call out after him when someone beat him to it.

"Snape!"

The voice came from behind him, and Harry thanked his Auror training for enabling him to quickly step back into the shadows of a side passage before he could be spotted. Seconds later, a dark, slender figure moved past.

Pulling up short, Snape turned, annoyance clear in his expression. "What do you want, Mulciber? I'm busy."

"You must be very busy, since I've scarcely seen you for months," Mulciber replied. "Where've you been hiding?"

"There's this thing called revising. You might try it some time. Given that this is a school and all."

"Cute. You used to have plenty of time for revision _and_ meeting with me."

"Things change."

Mulciber's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to Snape. "Do they now. And what, pray tell, has changed so dramatically?"

"My patience for your tedious prattle, for one."

"Careful, Snape, or I might begin to doubt your commitment to the Dark Lord's cause." Mulciber's voice was low and dangerous.

"I really don't give a flying fairy fuck what you doubt."

"You might not care what I think, but you surely must care what _he_ thinks. I will have his ear soon; what do you suppose I should tell him when your name comes up?"

"I _suppose_ ," Snape said, "you ought to tell your 'Lord' I said he can shove it up his Dark arse."

Watching from the shadows, Harry wanted to cheer. He forced himself to remain silent, but his face split into a huge grin.

Mulciber, however, didn't seem so pleased. He sucked in a shocked breath and took a step back. "You're making a huge mistake."

"We'll see."

"You don't want to make an enemy of him," Mulciber warned.

Snape seemed to lose his patience and his temper abruptly. Drawing his wand with startling speed, he threw a Cutting Curse directly at Mulciber. Robes whirling, Mulciber twisted to the side, but he wasn't quite fast enough. The curse clipped his shoulder, and he let out a sharp hiss.

"Do not," Snape snarled, "presume to tell me what I do or do not want ever again."

For a long moment, Mulciber glared at Snape, his wand hand twitching. Then he straightened and said, "Very well. Your stance is noted." With that, he pushed past Snape and continued down the hallway.

Snape stared after Mulciber until he was out of sight, then shoved his wand back into his pocket. Harry took that as his cue. Before Snape could exit the corridor as well, Harry rushed out of his hiding place. "Severus!"

Caught off guard, Snape spun to face Harry. Upon seeing him, Snape's jaw dropped open and his eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline.

"Severus, that was amazing!" Harry said as he ran up to Snape.

"Harry?" Snape sounded bewildered.

Laughing, Harry said, "I can't believe you just told Mulciber that Voldemort could shove it up his arse!"

"I didn't do it for you."

"I know. And that makes it even better."

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to come back. I tried to stay away, I really did, but I just couldn't."

Snape's expression turned steely. "So you're fickle, cowardly, _and_ weak willed. Lovely."

"All right, I probably deserved that."

"Probably?" Snape arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry I left, but I thought I was doing the right thing, you know? Focusing on my life and getting my priorities straight? But I couldn't stop thinking about you here. And everything _there_ was just… incomplete… without this." Harry ended with a helpless shrug, unable to adequately explain his feelings of drifting and vagueness.

"So what happens now?" Snape asked. It was cautious but hopeful.

Harry hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Well. I reckon you were right before. Between the Hogwarts library and Hermione's resources, we'll figure out what's going on and how to stabilize things. And until then," he shrugged again, "I'll take my chances. Everything will work out, right?"

So many things flashed across Snape's face that Harry had no hope of identifying them all. At last, Snape's eyes hardened. "No," he said.

"What?"

"I just made a choice. Now you have to make one. You can't live in two places at once." Snape's pain was evident in his features, but his resolve didn't waver. He turned and began walking away from Harry.

"Severus..?"

Snape didn't look back.

* * * * *

 _Dear Ron and Hermione,_

 _If you're reading this letter, it means I've gone, and I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I've decided to stay in Severus' time._

 _I don't think I've ever properly thanked you, so I'd better do it now, hadn't I? Thank you both, for sticking with me and fighting beside me through everything. I never would have made it without you. You were my first friends, and will always be my best friends._

 _You two don't really need me now, though. You've got each other, and all our friends, and promising careers that you enjoy. I'm not saying you don't want me around! Just that I know you'll be fine without me. I think Severus needs me more now. And I think maybe I need him too._

 _See, I realized something. If you try to live in both the past and the future, you'll never find your present. I've been living in this in-between place for a long time now, and I finally had to make a choice. I had to choose my present. Now that I have, I don't think I'll be stuck in the middle anymore._

 _I'll miss you loads. But somehow I have a feeling we might see each other again someday. Who knows? Maybe there's some way for me to come back and visit. If anyone can figure it out, it's Severus._

 _So, until I see you again… Hermione, don't let Ron eat so many chocolate biscuits! And Ron, tell Hermione to put down the books and relax from time to time. Take care of each other. Give my love to everyone, yeah?_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

* * * * *

The hallway was flooded with students just released from their final classes of the day, all noisily chattering or rushing off in one direction or another. Unnoticed in a side passage, Harry kept his eyes on Snape and waited for him to draw near. When Snape was within range, Harry whispered, "Severus! Psst! Severus!"

For an instant, Snape's eyes widened, then he schooled his expression and casually strode towards the adjacent corridor. Once out of view of the main hall, he turned to Harry and asked, "What do you want..?"

"To let you know that I made my decision," Harry said.

"And..?"

A grin spread across Harry's face. "I'm staying here."

Snape's jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds before he found his voice. " _Really_?"

Harry's grin broadened until he thought his cheeks might be in danger of splitting apart. "Yeah."

Still staring at Harry in stunned disbelief, Snape didn't quite seem to know what to do. Harry wasn't so confused. He opened his arms and reached for Snape, and the next thing he knew Snape was falling into him, returning his embrace, holding onto him tightly. Oddly, Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed before how well they _fit_ together.

Pulling back, Snape said, "Wait… What about your friends?"

"I'll miss them," Harry acknowledged. "But…"

"But?"

"Well, I decided I'd miss you more."

In an unsuccessful attempt to hide the blush and the crooked little smile that crept across his features, Snape ducked his head. "Come on," he said, then grabbed Harry by the sleeve and pulled him down the hallway.

Ten minutes later, they were continuing their conversation on the mats in the DADA classroom. Snape said, "I still can't believe…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I can't believe you gave up living in a time where the Dark Lord-- where _Voldemort_ is gone to be here instead. You'll have to fight him all over again now."

"I know." Harry's tone was somber. It certainly wasn't as though he hadn't thought about that long and hard. "But I have the advantage this time. I know things that can help to defeat him much sooner. I can change things. _We_ can change things."

"Is that why you're staying then? Because you think you can do good here and save lives?"

Harry picked up Snape's hand and squeezed it firmly. "No."

"You're an idiot, I hope you know."

"I've been told before, yeah."

Apparently Snape decided that he could live with seeing an idiot, because he tightened his grip on Harry's hand and leaned in closer.

"So," Harry said, "you're taking the potions apprenticeship?"

Snape nodded. "Yes."

"Is that what you want to do, then? Work in potions, do research, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah, maybe. Or… I was also thinking that I might like to become an Auror."

"Seriously?" Harry asked, surprised. When Snape didn't answer, he added, "I think you'd be a brilliant Auror."

Another one of Snape's tiny smiles formed on his lips. Then he asked, "What are you going to do here?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was considering giving professional Quidditch a go after the war's over. Although I think… Well, I think I'd really like to teach."

"You'd be good at that, I bet. You're enthusiastic and patient."

They were quiet for a short time, then Harry said, "It's going to be dangerous for a while, you know. Voldemort's a powerful enemy."

"I know. But I think…"

"Yeah?"

"I think it won't be so bad as long as you're here." Clearly embarrassed by the sentiment, Snape mumbled the words down at the mat.

Cupping Snape's chin in his fingers, Harry encouraged Snape to look at him. When Snape's eyes met his, Harry said, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm finally awake." Harry leaned forward, and as his lips molded to Snape's, he thought that the future would be just fine.

* * * * *

"It is our choices… that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." _\-- Albus Dumbledore_


End file.
